Cabin Fever
by Southern Hearts
Summary: AU Aang was never frozen, but disappeared after the war broke out. Ten years later, Katara, cold and bitter from years of imprisonment, joins an underground resistance led by her brother and is given the task of teaching a cynical and world weary Avatar how to waterbend. Mostly Katara-centric, slightly dark.
1. Prologue

**A/N** : In order to understand the setting, a bit of a scenario is needed. This story is severely AU; it takes out the hundred-year gap between Aang and the rest of the characters and works on several changes to the war's timeline. That having attacked the Air Nomads and believing the Avatar to have been killed in the first strike, Sozin turns his attention almost immediately on the Water Tribes. The Gaang are all about ten years older than in the canon. This story is not a supposition of what might have happened if Aang was never frozen, it only takes that initial idea.

Ages of other characters vary and some do not feature at all. Azulon, for instance, does not exist in this story, altering the structure of the Fire Nation Royal family. Characterization may vary as well, due to the altering of several of the main characters' pasts.

As to structure, initially, much of the story will be told alternating between past and present events, filling the gap between the ten years since the war started and the Gaang's lives in the present.

Warning: This fanfiction contains mild violence and language.

Happy reading!

 **~ATLA~**

"The legends say the moon was the first Waterbender. Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves. Our strength comes from the Spirit of the Moon. Our life comes from the Spirit of the Ocean. They work together to keep balance."

Yue, _The Siege of the North_

 **Prologue**

 _Water…Earth…Fire…Air…_

 _Not so long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony and there was balance in the world. Then that day came. A bright light filled the sky, painting it a blood red and fuelling the strength of the Fire Nation armies._

 _They attacked._

 _The Air Nomads were the first to suffer. They were almost wiped out in a single night, massacred only because they were the next nation in the cycle. Over twenty years ago, Avatar Roku perished and ten years ago, on that day, so did the new Avatar._

 _So did our hope._

 _The Fire Nation turned its attention on the Water Tribes, seeking to kill the next Avatar before he could even learn to walk. They only took three Waterbenders that first raid and more during the second. I was taken on the fifth._

 _They forced us into cages suspended above the ground. Hot, metal prisons with restricted access to water. Even the air was dry. They treated us like we were nothing, they robbed us of our dignity, and they wanted us to fade._

 _I thought I'd never see my family again._

 _Many people believe that the Avatar was never reborn into the Water Tribe. They believe that the Fire Nation had broken the cycle when they massacred the Air Nomads. I used to believe that the Avatar would return someday and free us from that place. I used to believe balance was possible again._

 _I was wrong._

 _The Avatar was never coming back._

 **~ATLA~**

She coughed.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth and her throat were as dry as dust. Lips, chapped and painful worked as she tried to wet them. Her mouth felt sticky and dry. Her chest felt tight, constantly aching from the hot, dry air they pumped into the prison. She thought she'd be used to it by now, but sometimes her body couldn't deal with the constant dehydration it was subjected to. She trembled without being cold.

They gave them three cups of water a day, enough to keep them alive, if barely and chained them up before they could drink. She had already seen bodies being dragged out of their cells, motionless and pale. The woman who had shared the cell on her right had passed yesterday. She had been old, a healer from the tribe and had gone in her sleep.

She almost envied her.

She coughed again.

 _Clang!_

"Shut up! _Scum_!"

She gave a start, looking round with bleary eyes at the Fire Nation soldier who had banged his sword against the bars of her cell. Amber eyes glared at her and it took everything she had not to cringe back in fear. Still trembling, she raised her head and just stared at him. She was too tired to do more than that, but she couldn't back down.

She wouldn't.

She could barely see his face, his helmet covered up most of his features, turning him into just another uniformed enemy. A _Firebender_. But his eyes, that golden, amber colour, like embers dancing off a flame, scared her. It was those eyes filled with cruelty and malice that she hated the most. It was those eyes and so many like them that haunted her dreams.

He sent a spark of flame at her and this time she reacted. She screamed, scrambling to the far side of her cell, desperate to get away. The fire was hot, searing the ends of her hair and adding a light burn to the back of her neck and cheek. No worse than bad sunburn, it wouldn't scar; they rarely did anything to her that scarred, but it hurt all the same.

 _Not like her hands. Not like the burn scars that wrapped around her hands from that first time. That first time she'd lifted them to defend her face. That first time she'd cried in pain for days, unable to use her fingers and unable to heal them without water. That first time when she'd thought they'd kill her. Sometimes she could still feel the blisters throbbing on her skin, still feel the fire, the burn…_

The cage lurched violently when she moved, knocking against the one suspended next to it and almost causing her to fall flat on her face. Instead, she managed to cling to the bars on the far side, her fingers tightened desperately on the metal and she closed her eyes, cringing for all she was worth.

If she could have cried, she would have, but her body couldn't afford to lose the moisture. Breathing hard, she tried to regain control, her heart beating wildly and made herself look up.

Made herself meet his _eyes._

He laughed.

" _Stubborn bitch_ ," he sneered smugly, moving on to the next cell.

She let herself slump against the bars. She looked down miserably at the blackened ends of her brown hair, loose and disheveled. The hot air was already making her cheek and neck sting painfully and her throat felt even raspier than before from screaming. The skin on her lower lip, so dry and fragile, had finally broken and she could taste the coppery stream of blood as she licked it, taking the taste into her dry, sticky mouth.

At least it was wet, she supposed.

Trying to get comfortable, she closed her eyes and tried to find sleep. Her lower limbs ached most of the time though, making the attempt challenging. But eventually, she found it. She needed escape and this was the only route she had. As she finally drifted off, she thought she heard someone laughing from far away.

 _She dreamed of snow. Cool, wet snow. It soaked her clothes and bathed her skin in it's chill. Her brother was firing snowballs at her, she was laughing. Gran Gran and Mom came out of the tent, holding bundles of skins to sell at the market. She could see Mom touching her necklace fondly before waving to someone far off._

 _Dad was approaching with a net full of fish, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth when he saw his children playing in the snow. She hit Sokka one last time before running towards Dad, practically leaping into his arms - she almost made him drop the fish! His arm was tight around her, pulling her securely into his embrace._

 _She felt safe._

 _There was a flash, everything turned red._

 _She shut her eyes, hugging close to her father's side. But suddenly he was gone. There was ash falling from the sky and she was no longer in the snow. There was fire all over the village, so much fire. She was frozen, her eyes wide in fear. Her wrists were shackled; she could feel the metal rubbing painfully against her skin. She was standing in the hull of a metal ship and the door was closing. Gran Gran was trying to shield a group of children, Sokka and Dad were fighting with the other men and Mom…_

 _Lifeless eyes stared at her, taunted her, and accused her._

 _The door was closing, the air was hot and dry; everything was burning._

 _Darkness enclosed upon her, leaving nothing but amber eyes in the firelight._

 _And the scream remained trapped in her throat..._

She woke up hours later, nightmares fading into each other until all that remained in her memory were the flames. The sky outside was dark and the prison silent except for the sounds of the air pumps working, the creaking of gears and the occasional cough of a prisoner. Her cheek ached dully and her lower lip had scabbed over. She sighed sadly when she saw the moon rising up through the bars of the small window high above her cell. The moonlight brushed her skin and she felt a surge of strength. It was like this every month, it was both sweet and torturous.

If she'd been near water she could have done something. She knew she could have. She could have overpowered _them_ ; all she needed was a cup full. That would be enough, more than enough.

But they never gave them water on full moon nights.

 _Enough to keep them alive, not enough to let them live…_

Still, she felt a little better. Like something small had been replaced.

So lost in her thoughts, she barely heard it at first. There was a scuffle, a groan and then the tinkling of metal. _Yelling._

Her head snapped up. She saw the light of a flame in the air and shadows moving. Pressing her face against the bars of her cell, her eyes widened at the sight that befell her.

One of the cell doors was open and a hunched figure was extracting itself from its confines. The cage lurched on its chains, swinging slightly and causing the shadows to move. In the dim light she could see grey hair and a bony, pale hand. Right in front of it was another figure; she recognized the glint of Fire Nation armor immediately. The man was raised a foot in the air, convulsing and twitching.

"Hey! What's going on?!"

Another guard had arrived. He backed away when he saw what was happening to his comrade, his shoulders brushing against the bars of her cell. When the hunched figure made a move with its arm, the guard who had been in the air was thrown back into a steel wall, screaming. The other guard brought up a flame and she acted on instinct.

Throwing herself on her stomach, she thrust arms through the bars and grabbed the Firebender around his neck, pulling him back with strength she didn't know she possessed. She held him round the throat while he chocked and squirmed, cutting off his air supply. He eventually fainted, slumped in her arms and she let him drop. He landed with a thud on the metal floor.

The hunched figure approached.

Closer, she could tell it was an old woman, frail and terrifying in the dimness.

"You're Kanna's granddaughter," a croaky voice said to her, " _Katara_."

Katara nodded slowly. This woman was familiar, for all that she was thinner and paler then Katara could recall. Gran Gran used to visit her. She had lived on the outskirts of the village and never came in. The children used to call her a witch, but her name was lost in Katara's tired mind. Her pale grey eyes shone with a cruelty that made the young Waterbender want to shiver. Those eyes went to the motionless Firebender on the ground and a calculating look crossed her face.

"So they haven't crushed you yet," she mused, her voice raspy.

Katara didn't say anything, just watched as the old woman walked away, bending down to retrieve something off the ground. A key. Then she was opening Katara's cell door. She offered a bony hand.

"Come child," she murmured, "We must not waste the moonlight."

Katara frowned at her suspiciously, but took the hand offered.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

The old woman smiled tightly.

"I am Hama."

 **~ATLA~**

" _Avatar_!" the aging waterbender yelled out into the night, " _Come back_!"

But the Avatar just kept running. He was faster than any waterbender, using his airbending to propel his speed. He ran until he was alone, far from the lights of the icy city, until the only thing he could see was the silvery light of the moon on the snow. He was breathing hard, his newly grown dark hair long enough to sweep into his eyes and over the blue tattoo he now had to keep hidden from the world. He looked down at the snow beneath his feet, the fur boots he had been given were buried deeply in the wet.

He took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose and spun his arms out. The wind picked up as he molded the air into a swirling ball of force. He threw it into the snow, sending the flakes flying around him in a torrent. Then he screamed, a wordless cry of frustration and bitterness.

As the snow settled again, he glared up at the moon and took several more breaths. He then started working through the katas, every waterbending form he had been taught over the past year. He went through them fluidly, perfectly.

But nothing happened.

He tried drawing the water from the snow; it turned to slush and wouldn't move. He could feel the strength flowing into him from the full moon, something that was supposed to enhance his waterbending. It didn't work. He was close to the sea, so he tried to raise a wave in the water, but the stillness became erratic, the water struggled and refused to obey his will, bubbling and churning on the surface.

He let his arms drop, clutched at his hair and gave another yell of frustration.

"Why can't I get this?!" he demanded of no one but himself. He started punching, great masses of condensed air fired off his fists and cut through the water. Drops flew everywhere, glinting for a moment in the moonlight before splashing back into the sea. He stopped, his breath ragged and everything stilled.

He looked out across the waters, the brightness of the moon illuminated the waves with a pearl grey sheen and he could only stand there, bathing in its glow. The reflected light danced mockingly over the waves, teasing him with its mysterious beauty and its great vastness. He clenched his fists, frustration making his chest tight.

"I'm the Avatar right?" he yelled to the sea, to the moon and to the sky, "I'm supposed to be able to do this!"

Tears stung his eyes, but he forced them back, refusing to cry. He brought his left hand across his chest and rubbed his right shoulder gently. Even after three years, it still pained him sometimes.

He wanted to give up. The water was so unnatural to him in that moment. Both calm and treacherous, giving and fickle. It teased him to reach out to it, yet rebelled when he did. It rejected him.

"Ah, _monkey feathers_ ," he cursed softly.

"Bad night, Aang?"

Aang froze at the familiar voice and whipped round wide-eyed. At the sight of the spirit standing behind him, glowing softly with a pale light, his eyes narrowed. The spirit adjusted his bearskin hood and nodded to Aang. The Airbender Avatar sighed tiredly and flopped down in the snow, turning away from his past life.

 _Double monkey feathers._

"What do _you_ want, Kuruk?"

The older man knelt down so he was level with his newest incarnation, placing his hand on Aang's head. It was a strange feeling being touched by a spirit, Aang decided, like feeling a warm presence more than a comforting touch. He felt a little better.

"We need to talk," the Waterbender said gently, "About where you go from here."

Aang raised an eyebrow.

" _I'm listening..."_

 **~ATLA~**

Not far away, two aging monks stood on the top of the carved, ice walls of the Northern Water Tribe's great city. They had seen their youngest member run away from his master and could see, despite the distance and the darkness, the flurry of snow his airbending had sent up. His cry had carried through the air to where the two masters stood.

"He's getting restless," one aging monk sighed, closing his eyes for a long moment, "He's not a child any longer, hasn't been since that day."

"He needs to master waterbending," said his compatriot, an older, gruffer man with a long, grey goatee jutting out from his chin, "It's the next element in the cycle. He must stay here Gyatso."

Gyatso pursed his lips.

He had never been able to convince this man of much. It had been this elder that tried to send Aang away in the first place, it had been this man that had willingly sacrificed Aang's childhood and it had been this man who had kept them in this place for so long.

Air Nomads were not meant to linger in one place; it was against their nature.

"Tonight is a full moon," he said, pointing to the sky, "If he was ever going to waterbend Tashi, it should have been tonight. We must move on for now."

" _No_ Avatar has ever learned to bend outside of the traditional order," the elder spluttered.

"Then he will be the first to go backwards," Gyatso retorted, "There is a Firebender here. _Now_. That is willing to teach him. It might prove impossible to find another if we wait."

It was an idea that had been in Gyatso's head for sometime. The young Firebender had aided greatly in their escaping the Fire Nation's detection then came here to offer further aid. He was sitting in a Water Tribe prison presently, but at Aang's word would most likely be set free. There were so few Firebenders left now who would aid them, even Gyatso's old friends had been silenced in light of the Fire Nation's rise to power.

"He tried to kill the Avatar!" Tashi shouted, outraged by the suggestion, "You know who he is-"

"So do you," Gyatso said meaningfully.

"You let your past friendship with Avatar Roku blind you!"

"There is good in him, he merely needs the chance to prove himself. That boy will always have a struggle within him, it is time to let him fight it out."

Tashi turned away, flushing angrily.

Gyatso sighed sadly.

"If things do not change," he continued gently, "I fear Aang will try to strike out on his own and this time, I don't think I will be able to stop him."

He still remembered that stormy night over three years ago when he had found Aang trying to get Appa to leave his pen. It had taken what seemed like hours to convince his young student that running away was not going to make his problems disappear. The shame-faced boy had sobbed into Gyatso's chest, whilst the monk continually assured him he would not let Aang be taken away.

Knowing what would happen just a few weeks later, Gyatso sometimes wished he had just let Aang run.

"He has grown impulsive over the years," Tashi ground out, oblivious to the turmoil in Gyatso's mind, " _Irresponsible_."

"He will be a man soon," Gyatso pointed out, "He does not wish to be tied down. He wants to find his own path in this world."

"As the Avatar-"

"As a young man," Gyatso shook his head, "You were the same way, and so were many of us…back then."

"The world is different now," Tashi straightened, ignoring the jibe at his own youthful excursions, "Aang is one of the last younglings we have left, he cannot go out into the world, he _will_ be killed."

"For now, he will do _nothing_ ," Gyatso assured him, "But you must be prepared, so must we all. Eventually, we will have to let Aang make his own way."

"You are too kind hearted."

"You are too cynical…it's beginning to rub off on Aang."

"If it keeps him alive-"

"If it stops him from living…"

Gyatso accepted the glare with all the patience of his age, even if he did have the urge to stick his tongue out at the older Airbender. That would never do of course, he'd just have to drop yet another pie on old Tashi's head one of these days. Maybe he could get Aang to help him again…

"Aang is not your child, Gyatso," Tashi continued, "Your attachment to the boy clouds your judgment, just as it always has."

"And your stubbornness narrows your vision," Gyatso retorted easily, "Perhaps in learning the other two elements, Aang will be able to discover what prevents him from waterbending. You press for time, but are willing to waste more of it here. I believe Aang has gained all he can from the North Pole, it is time to _move on_."

Tashi didn't say anything else, but Gyatso knew he'd won. Spirits, but the man was more hardheaded than most Earthbenders he knew. He looked out onto the dark, icy landscape, his eyes scanning for his student, but there was no longer any sign. He sighed, wondering if he'd have to go out and find Aang.

It was quite cold and he wasn't as young as he used to be.

"Monk Gyatso? Monk Tashi?"

Both men turned in surprise at the voice. It was _Aang_ climbing the steps to where they stood. Gyatso could never quite get over how much his little student had changed in such a short time. Gone was any of the baby fat in his cheeks, leaving a lean, tall figure who almost towered over Gyatso. He hadn't worn the traditional robes of an Air Nomad since they had gone into hiding and so sported a dyed, blue anorak, trimmed with fur. His hair had grown long and shaggy, but the peak of the arrow on his forehead was still prominent, though usually hidden under a fur-lined cap. It was the only indication that he was an Airbending Master. From a first glance, he could have been mistaken for a Water Tribesman. His dark hair flung about wildly from the cold wind and his grey eyes sparked with a determination they hadn't seen there in a long time.

"Where is Zuko?" the young Avatar asked quietly.

Gyatso shot Tashi a look that clearly said; _I told you so_.

 **~ATLA~**

He sat crossed legged on the skin pallet, his elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands. He stared at the back wall, a bored expression on his scarred face. There was a bear skin pinned up there, it stretched right across the whole wall, giving a hint to the dimension of the beast it had once belonged to. He had never seen a white bear before, he wondered if it had been as large as he imagined. He sighed, leaning back on the pallet and crossing his arms under his head. He stretched his legs out lazily before bending one and crossing the other over it.

The window was open and he could see the moon shining brightly, it's silvery light casting shadows in the candle lit room. He amused himself for a few minutes by gently bending the flames higher and lower, making the shadows dance against the walls. It didn't last very long and he sighed, turning over.

It would be so easy to get out of his 'prison,' the Water Tribesmen knew that. They even supplied his icy room with warm pelts and burning candles. He could escape, just for a little while, he could leave and explore. But he wouldn't…

Because he had given his word and they trusted him, at least a little.

So he waited, for three months he had waited and he still hadn't been given the audience he wanted. He was getting impatient.

He wondered what Uncle would say?

"Sometimes the best action is no action at all," he told himself, turning on his back again, lifting his finger and taking on his uncle's calm, gruff tone, "Prince Zuko, you must be patient. Now how about some tea?"

He huffed.

"Easier said than done, Uncle," he said to the ceiling.

Of course, if he had listened to his uncle's advice a year ago, he probably wouldn't be in this mess. He touched the puckered scar covering his eye. It still stung with a phantom ache sometimes. The Water Tribe healers had done a fantastic job on healing him, but there would always be a scar. He'd accepted that a while ago.

He wondered where Uncle was right now; it had been months since the whole monstrous mess up. Nearly a year since Zuko had decided to turn traitor. Somehow, he'd imagined being on the run would be a lot more interesting. Here he just felt idle and useless. The North Pole was no place for a Firebender, especially not in the winter, and the nineteen-year-old prince was missing the sunlight.

He snorted.

This was probably why they trusted him this much, even if he was still under a kind of house arrest.

The flap covering the round doorway opened suddenly, disrupting Zuko from his musings. He sat up in surprise when three men entered his room. He recognized the first two as the warriors who guarded his door, but the last was a stranger. They didn't say anything, the guards just nodded to Zuko, leaving the third behind them in the room. One of the guards clasped this stranger on the arm before he left; they exchanged a few whispered words and the stranger nodded solemnly. He was younger than the guards, his face expressionless.

Zuko waited, confused, until he was finally spoken to. They did that a lot, ignored him until he was needed. It had annoyed him at first, but he understood why they did it. _What they thought of him..._

"You're Prince Zuko, right?" the Water Tribe warrior looked his age, his brown hair was in a wolf-tail, the lower section shaved. He carried a boomerang strapped to his back.

"Yes?" he said quietly, getting to his feet.

The Water Tribe boy eyed him oddly, and then nodded.

"I have a message for you from General Iroh," he unhooked a small scroll from a pouch at his side and held it out to Zuko.

The Firebender grabbed the parchment from the other boy's hand with a hurried ' _thanks_ ,' ripped it open and read quickly. He skimmed over most of the details, looking only for word that his uncle was safe. When he had found it, he absorbed the rest, including the instructions to join Iroh's friends in the Earth Kingdom as soon as he could. When he looked up, the Water Tribe boy was still there, watching him curiously.

"I'm supposed to take you or a message back," he explained, then shrugged, " _And_ your uncle made me promise to make sure you were in one piece. Which you seem to be in…so _yeah_ …"

"Oh," Zuko scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, "Well, I can't leave until the Avatar agrees to see me."

"So it's true," the other boy's eyes widened, "The Avatar is really alive?"

Zuko nodded slowly.

"Wow," the Water Tribe boy let out a breath, then looked at Zuko seriously, "Mind if I ask you something?"

"Shoot," the prince sighed.

"Why did you do it?" blue eyes stared at him with a measuring gaze, "Why did you take the blame for _killing the Avatar_?"

Zuko hesitated, forcing a smile onto his face.

"From my father's point of view, I took the _credit_ ," he shook his head, "It seemed like the only thing to do at the time."

"So the other rumors?" the Water Tribe boy pressed on, "They're wrong too?"

"Depends which ones you're talking about," Zuko gave him a humourless smile, and then took a seat. What the hell, this guy was all the distraction he was going to get today, "What's your name anyway?"

"Sokka," he sat down on one of the pelts too, "It's just…you're not exactly what I expected."

"Do I dare ask?" Zuko questioned, bemused.

"Probably shouldn't," Sokka shrugged, "I had something of an angry jerk face in mind, no offense… You're really going to do it right? You're going to teach the Avatar _firebending_?"

Zuko frowned at his disapproving tone.

"You don't approve."

"Nothing personal," Sokka crossed his arms, "I'm just not a big fan of the style."

Zuko snorted at the other man's candor.

"Not many people are now a days," he crossed his own arms, mimicking Sokka's pose, "And Aang hasn't exactly agreed yet."

Sokka frowned.

" _Aang_?" he blinked, " _That's_ the Avatar's name?"

"You didn't know that?"

Sokka shook his head.

"No one does," he explained, tilting his head a little, "Only a hand full of people know he's actually _alive_. My dad's helping your uncle out, that's the only reason I'm here. It's funny…I knew a goofy little airbender named Aang when I was a kid. He was from the Southern Air Temple, visited the tribe a few times to go penguin sledding."

"Did he have a flying bison named Appa?" Zuko asked, his voice a little sad.

Sokka looked up sharply.

"Yeah," he said slowly, he closed his eyes in realization, " _Ah_ Spirits. I'd never even imagined that little kid could be…"

"I know," Zuko agreed, "I knew him before too."

They sat in silence for several long moments. Zuko wondered if Sokka was thinking the same thing he was, wondered if he too was remembering the bright, joking little Airbender who was up for any adventure.

Sokka opened his eyes again.

"Is that why you didn't kill him?" he asked, then smiled a little, "Sorry, never mind…whatever the reason... _thank you_. I was scared he'd been killed in the genocide."

It was the first time in a long time that Zuko had been thanked for anything. He felt the heat rush to his cheeks and he resisted the sheepish grin that wanted to flood his face. He had done something right then, for all the bad things, he had done one thing right. He had saved someone's friend.

Not sure of what to say, he just nodded.

"So…you're just going to wait until he decides he wants to learn how to firebend?" Sokka asked.

Zuko flushed.

"More or less," he admitted, "The last time Aang and I met…I wasn't really in my right mind. We didn't part on _great_ terms."

"Something to do with the rumors?"

"Probably," Zuko agreed.

"Hmmm," Sokka tapped his fingers against his arm thoughtfully, "Well I-"

He was cut off when the flap opened again and a rather red faced young woman stepped in. She looked a little out of breath, her dark hair messy and her clothes wrinkled.

"It's the Airbenders," she said hurriedly, looking at Zuko, "They want to see you. Right now!"

Zuko had been waiting for something like this for so long, he didn't move. Shock filled him. He was going to see Aang. He was really going to see him. He immediately tried going over all the reasons he'd saved up in his head for wanting to teach Aang how to firebend. None of them seemed adequate all of a sudden. He felt nervous, so very nervous. Sokka gave a bark of laughter, pulling Zuko from his worries.

"You better go, Rumor Boy," he told the Fire Nation prince lightly, "I'll hang around for your return message, then head back to Sanctuary."

Zuko nodded gratefully, getting to his feet.

 _This was it._

 **~ATLA~**

"Get the hell out of here, girly!" the voice was harsh and tinged with a good dose of fear. She could feel his heart pounding through the earth, rhythmically syncing in with her own. Swallowing hard despite herself, she quickly pushed her body upwards with a pillar of rock hard earth, desperate to free herself. She could hear the panting, the yelling, the screams and the sharp clang of metal on metal. The stench of fresh blood and charred flesh filled her nostrils, making her want to gag.

She propelled herself high above the fighting, speeding her way in and out of the line of fire. Literally. The combatants movements were easy to track, easy to predict, but she could still feel the rush of adrenalin pounding through her, making her move faster, need to jump higher. She used the earth to cushion her fall, absorbing the hard impact of her feet.

"Get down!" he yelled again.

"Shut it, Yuki!" she snarled as she finally reached him, taking out the soldiers advancing on him with one large, well aimed stone wall, knocking them as hard as she could.

"I told you to get lost, Toph!" he shouted back angrily, "You could have gotten hurt!"

"I can take care of myself," Toph growled, proving her point by firing a round of stone fists to capture a ream of firebenders marching towards them. It wasn't until she heard their yelps of surprise and pain that she turned her head in Yuki's directing, a satisfied smirk plastered to her lips.

"Now you're just showing off," the old man grumbled and for once Toph wished she could see his expression.

She often wondered what Yuki looked like. He was heavy, she could sense that from his tread when he walked and his voice sounded old. The amount of times he had mussed up her hair with his big hands told her he was taller then her, but by how much she would never know. She also knew he wore armour. Metal plated across his chest and back. She could feel the hum in that metal, like an old friend greeting her touch.

"Looks like someone's getting snippy in their old age," she teased, "What's the matter old man? Too fast for you?"

"Someone should have taught you to respect your elders, girly," Yuki spat, clearly annoyed.

A rumbling in the earth interrupted her retort. It made the whole area shake and set her gritting her teeth as she realized what it was.

In the last year or so, the Fire Nation had come out with a new 'toy.' A gigantic, metal machine that ran on coal and steam and rolled over the earth with a clattering and clunking she could detect from miles away. It moved slowly, too slowly to really be useful, Toph thought. But what it did was stop normal weapons from penetrating it, though a well-aimed boulder could still do damage. Toph often wondered why the Fire Nation sent such a great, clumsy thing into battle, regardless of the lives lost on their own side. This would be the third one she had seen and they seemed to keep getting harder and harder to take down.

Though she couldn't see exactly what it looked like, she could detect its size and even the number of people riding inside. Yuki had told her once that there were shoots situated near the top from which fire could be distributed.

"Come on, old man," she yelled at him, "We've got work to do!"

Using the earth beneath her feet like a second pair of legs, she dashed towards the machine, the earth roving and moving beneath her, propelling her forward. She launched a series of large boulders at it, knowing that other earthbenders were doing the same. They bounded off the metal shell, denting and turning the thing off course. She could feel Yuki somewhere off to her left, making jagged pieces of rock sprout from the ground, breaking into the machine's wheels and chains. It worked to an extent, almost managing to tip the metal contraption over.

Screaming met her ears, the smell of blood fresh around her. She ignored it. This was war, this was what she had signed up for and this was what she had to deal with.

There was no time for regrets now.

Taking a deep breath, She made a dash for the machine, ignoring Yuki's yells for her to stop. She reached it in seconds, launching her whole body into the assault. Her fingers hit the metal, gripping it as though it were no more a cloth she was about to pull off. Her heels dug and dented into the frame as she ripped it apart.

This was why they let her fight out here, after all. She was a metalbender, the first to ever exist.

She tore a hole in that machine and then bent its wheels for good measure. The other earthbenders flooded in behind her, adding their own share of damage. All she could hear was rock scrapping against metal, the screams of the firebenders and the loud hiss of steam as the machine finally succumbed to their attacks.

After that, everything happened in a whirl of sound. Shouts from men on both sides, the crunch of stone on metal and the deafening smack of rock colliding with bodies. Toph found herself side by side with Yuki once more, fending off attack and listening for any directions he would give.

"Cover now!" he yelled suddenly.

Toph didn't hesitate. Immediately she threw up a stone tent, blocking out any openings and waited. Seconds later she could feel the dull thuds of arrows colliding with the rock, battering in like heavy rainfall. She could feel Yuki beside her, breathing out a small sigh of relief and allowed herself a slight smile.

Arrows.

She hated arrows.

Recently she had been trying to use her metalbending as a way of deciphering if arrows were heading towards her, but it was difficult. The metal arrowheads approaching her at those speeds were almost impossible to sense. And even if she could, she had to concentrating on the task of detecting them. This was one time when she had to admit her blindness was a disadvantage. If someone was far enough away and aimed one of those death sticks at her, she might not be able to defend herself in time.

And the thought of that chilled her to the bone.

If there was one thing Toph didn't like being, it was helpless.

The barrage of falling arrows finally stopped. With an angry shake of her head, Toph immediately stomped her foot, using the vibrations to sense where the would-be archers were and fired the two stone slabs acting as her roof at them. Annoying bugs that tried to sting her from so far away deserve to be squished.

"I got 'em Yuki!" she said confidently, "You can stop shaking in your boots now!"

He didn't retort.

"Yuki?" she frowned, stamping her foot. The vibrations didn't have to carry far. Her eyes went wide as she recognized the body lying not two feet away from her.

"Yuki!" she screamed.

She _really_ hated arrows.

Hours seemed to pass before she got him to the healing tents, refusing to abandon her comrade for even a moment. She took a position beside his bed and wouldn't budge as the healer worked. She didn't move, didn't hear the healer as he muttered to himself, calling for supplies. She listened for other things.

She sniffed loudly, waiting for his heartbeat to grow stronger. But it never did. As each minute passed she could feel the life giving rhythm grow slower and fainter. He was slipping away. Tears worked their way down her face, involuntarily and without any ceremony. She gasped and chocked on them, trying to fight back those traitorous tears.

"You stupid, girly-ass named jerk!" she hissed out at him, "Grouchy old bastard! You stick around – you stick around or I'll – I'll beat your sorry butt!"

But she knew her voice wasn't reaching him. She couldn't feel anything, not a flutter. Gradually, the heartbeat grew weaker and weaker, until finally, there was nothing but silence.

She ran from the tent, ignoring the yells trying to draw her back. She couldn't stand it and she wanted to be alone. This was her mistake after all, she had let herself get close to someone and now they were gone. The last thing she needed was for anyone else to think she needed comfort.

She threw rocks and smashed stone pillars to dust for a long while, refusing to let more tears fall. When she finally felt a little better, she squared her shoulders and stilled her expression. Toph strode back to camp, her whole demeanor daring anyone to comment.

"The moon is awfully bright tonight," she heard someone comment lightly as she passed.

Far above her, shining through the trees, the moonlight fell on the earthbender. Like so many things though, it was something she would never see.

 **~ATLA~**

Sokka stretched out a little as he waited for Zuko to return, wondering what was taking the firebender so long. He also wondered if the Avatar really was Aang. It could be a coincidence, after all. Aang wasn't exactly a rare name amongst airbenders.

He sighed wearily, feeling far older than his eighteen years. It would be nice to see at least one person he'd known before the war had survived. There seemed to be so few of them now. Most of the boys Sokka's age had either been taken and imprisoned or had already died. Not to mention he had already lost both his mother and sister to this war.

Now it seemed his father was determined not to lose him too.

Though he had convinced his father all those years ago to let him join the war effort instead of staying at home, he still got the feeling he was being shielded. It was why he was given missions like this. Delivering messages and making sure wayward royals ended up back with their uncles. Still, these things tended to bring more trouble than they were worth. He didn't know how long he'd be here, waiting for Zuko's message, and then there was the somewhat hazardous trip to where his father was encamped. After that, the message would be relayed back through a Fire Nation ally and to General Iroh. It would take weeks, if not months, before the General got his reply.

In the mean time, Sokka would likely be sent on yet another errand. If his father was in a particularly protective mood, he'd likely be sent home to help there.

Sokka frowned at the thought.

That wouldn't help them find Katara.

After three years, he still held onto the hope that his younger sister was alive. They had received reports barely a year after she was taken of where the Fire Nation was holding waterbender prisoners. This made little sense to Sokka. Why hadn't the Fire Nation just killed them? Not that he was complaining, but it seemed like a large tactical risk. Even if the prisons were in the Fire Nation, there was always the chance for escape.

He wished he had a better idea of what the prisons were like, but any Intel passed to them had been confusing and not altogether feasible. He wished as well that he had the kind of authority to organize a rescue mission, but with the war growing ever more treacherous, the blockade around Fire Nation waters and his own age playing a factor, he was never able to get anyone to listen.

There was just too much, and Katara was slipping through the cracks.

He looked out of the window, his gaze falling on the full moon. He liked to think Katara was watching that same moon right now.

"Tui," he muttered, he didn't really believe in spirits and the like, but it was worth a shot, "Look after my sister, okay?"

He didn't receive an answer, of course, but he felt a little better. He'd save Katara, he promised himself silently, and he'd bring her home. _Someday._

Still watching the moon, he didn't notice that the flap door to the room had opened, or that someone had stepped in. He didn't notice anything until he felt a soft tap on his shoulder and heard a soft "Excuse me."

He looked up.

And stared.

She was probably the most beautiful girl Sokka had ever seen, even lovelier than Katara's friend Miri, who had often been praised as a village beauty. The first thing he noticed was her snow, white hair. He had never seen a girl with hair like that. Then there were her eyes, a sparkling kind of blue – _like sunlight on water!_ – and then her face, soft and graceful featured and-

Then he realized she was talking.

"Um, what?' he said dumbly.

"I said," Her voice was light with amusement, "My father told me a messenger had come in. I was wondering if you might deliver this to Captain Shinju?"

He realized she was holding out a small scroll to him. It was wrapped in leather to keep it dry and sealed with wax to discourage nosy persons from taking a peak. He had been so enchanted with her eyes and her smile, that he hadn't realized anything else about her. Now that he did though, he rose to his feet quickly.

Her manner of dress, the fine furs and even the way she held herself screamed someone from the upper classes of Northern Water Tribe society. Sokka knew enough of Northern etiquette to realize remaining seated like that had been rather rude. She didn't seem to notice, though her lips did quirk a little as she watched him, still holding out the scroll.

He nodded a little jerkily, bewildered as he accepted the scroll from her. Captain Shinju led the Northern warriors and was currently encamped with his father in the Earth Kingdom.

"Not a problem," he managed to choke out.

She smiled at him and his heart seemed to melt like ice beside a flame. She was definitely the loveliest girl he had ever laid eyes on.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, bowing her head a little.

"Ah, I'm Sokka, by the way," he blurted out, flushing, "I don't – I don't think we've met before."

"We haven't," her eyes crinkled with mirth, "You're Chief Hakoda's son."

Sokka just nodded dumbly.

"I'm Yue," she said, amused, "Chief Arnook's daughter."

His eyes widened.

"The princess!" he squeaked out, and coughed roughly, "I mean, of course. Princess Yue. Nice to meet you."

Her smile widened.

Encouraged, Sokka smiled back.

They spoke a little from there, though to be honest most of it consisted of Sokka making a fool of himself and Yue giggling with shy amusement. He felt a funny kind of warmth from speaking to her. All too soon though, their discussion ended. She gave him a regretful sort of look as she was called away. Sokka found himself staring dopily after her, already smitten.

It was too bad he'd have to leave soon.

"Yue," he rolled the name on his tongue, liking it, "Princess Yue."

The world was such a funny place these days, imagine him meeting a real princess!

He cast a glance to the seat Zuko had long since vacated and a frown marred his face for a moment.

"And a prince too, I guess," he muttered to himself.

The world was a funny place indeed.

He was distracted from his thought by the sound of approaching voices. Hoping it was Zuko returning, Sokka sat up a little straighter, watching the door.

"Well where is he?" a voice practically whined, startling the young Water tribesman, "He's an old friend!"

"Waiting in the next room," the guard's voice was fairly gruff.

Sokka looked up, more than surprised when an incredibly happy looking Water Tribe boy came bounding into the room, dragging the Fire Nation prince behind him like some kind of play doll. Zuko was looking awkward, pulling his sleeve away from the boy's grip and shifting uncomfortably on his feet. The boy was looking at Sokka with a big grin.

"Sokka! It's really you!"

Sokka frowned, his eyes scanning over a rather familiar looking face. Though narrower now from the loss of puppy fat and perhaps more weary than a teenage boy's face should be, Sokka recognized it. There was a headband tied over where the peak of his arrow should be and his hair had grown out considerably.

"Aang?" Sokka exclaimed, nearly falling flat on his face.

The young Airbender laughed out loud, looking happily between Sokka and Zuko. There was a spark in his eyes, something between relief and burning hope.

"It's been a while," Aang said meaningfully, tugging Zuko back into the room, "The three of us have some things to talk about."

Sokka recognized the determined glow in Aang's face, as though preparing himself for some grand adventure. Feeling a little suspicious, Sokka didn't say anything, looking between the airbender and the firebender.

He knew this mission was going to bring trouble.

 **~ATLA~**

Katara's bare feet stung a little on the harsh, stony ground. She had been cooped up in her cage for so long, her legs felt a little weak and she was prone to stumbling. Luckily, Hama was patient. She laid a strong hand on Katara's arm to steady her and offered a kind smile. Katara smiled back, whatever cruelty she had detected in the woman before must have been her imagination.

"Your strength will return in time," the older Waterbender assured her, "We will only walk a little further, find a place to sleep and regain some energy."

Katara nodded gratefully.

They had practically walked out of the prison together. She was surprised when Hama told her they could not free anyone else, stating that most of the Waterbenders had either perished, or were too weak to be moved. Katara hadn't argued, she had been too grateful and too weak herself to say much. It still seemed surreal to her, this woman suddenly saving her. And the way she did it, the way she stopped many more guards as they walked away, it both haunted and thrilled her.

"How did you do it?" she found herself rasping, her throat was still so dry, "You just shoved them away without even touching them."

Hama's eyes glinted in the moonlight.

"A waterbending technique I… _created_ in my youth," her voice sounded innocent, "For self defense only, of course. I could teach _you_."

Katara imagined those amber eyes staring at her, approaching her, attacking her. She never wanted to be in that position again. She would rather die! So lost in her thoughts, she barely registered the hungry look in Hama's face, or the way her fingers seemed to twitch with anticipation.

"I want to learn," she told Hama, smiling.

Hama's returning smile was practically gloating.

"I think you will learn it very well," she cackled a little, "Kanna told me you were one of the best Waterbenders in the tribe. A _Master_ before your fourteenth year."

Katara blushed.

"I miss home," she admitted, "We'll get back though, right?"

She looked at the woman imploringly.

Hama reached up with a bony hand and squeezed her shoulder.

"We are two Waterbending Masters," she said, "What could stop us?"

In the night, she heard the mournful cry of a cat-owl and felt the gentle breath of a warm breeze caress her blistered skin. The moon shone brightly above, bathing them in its glow, in its power, in its strength. She took a deep breath and walked beside the old woman, dreams of home filling her head. Swirling snow falls and deep, blue oceans. High, icy terrains covered in all that wonderful white. Hope like she hadn't felt in a long time stirred in her heart. She was going home. She didn't feel like a seventeen-year-old girl who had just been freed from a horrible prison, she felt like a child who was being led towards something new. A child, who was being guided and protected, a child, who could trust implicitly the old woman beside her and hold onto her bony hand without fear. Hama was Gran-Gran's friend after all.

She had to be safe now; she just _had_ to be.

 **~ATLA~**

 **A/N** : And so it begins. This prologue takes place about three or four years after Sozin's comet. I started writing this story over a year ago and decided it was time to get at least a chapter up. This is definitely the most ambitious I've been with a story, so we'll see how it pans out. Aang's waterbending block was inspired by _The Last Airbender_ movie (I can't say much else is), though I call it 'block' lightly as he can waterbend, just not very well. Initially, this story will be very Katara-centric.

There's a lot of minor characters to play with too. Bringing in the Air Nomad characters we see briefly in Aang's past was especially tempting. With this kind of story, there will be quite a few OCs, but the focus will always remain on one of the canon characters. I also plan to bring in the four characters from the trading card game, though two will only be mentioned. Another facet I'm interested in exploring is Katara entering the Gaang as the final member instead of Zuko.

I do give some fair warning, this is an AU and although I will attempt to keep the canon aspects of the Avatar world, there are a few things I am changing. The biggest, of course, being that this story effectively squashes the two times together. So things like the technology, while not necessarily as advanced, are still present. I offer some interpretative thoughts on Air Nomad culture and spiritual abilities, and on Ba Sing Se at the beginning of the war.

Thanks for reading!


	2. A Memory of Snow

"It's been so long since I've had hope, but you brought it back to life, my little Waterbender."

\- Kanna, _The Avatar Returns_

 **A Memory of Snow**

 _Autumn, 9 AG…._

There was a lot to be proud of, he decided straightening up before the general's critical gaze. There was a lot to be proud of and he was going to show it.

Captain Tan of the Ninth Infantry was new to his post. At the ripe age of twenty-six, his career path was set. His father was one of the Fire Lord's chief advisors, his mother was prominent in Fire Nation society and he had just graduated with top ranks from his training. This was his task, his first. Governing a small, conquered Earth Kingdom town near the coast and maintaining order amongst its citizens.

A simple enough task.

The occupants were a passive lot, he had decided quickly, like a herd of hippo cows in the field. Since the village's occupation three years previously, they had done little to resist Fire Nation rule. The former mayor of the town had proved to be a great asset in dissuading any occurrences of misbehavior. It was his office, a simply decorated room with large windows overlooking the town square that Tan now occupied for his work. From here he could issue orders to his troops, hear grievances from the townsfolk and consult on the latest intelligence reports. It had all been a smooth process thus far with the one or two grumblings from the inhabitants resulting in nothing more than a brief, domestic dispute.

Tan was quite proud of how well things were going.

This incident only added to it.

Reports came in that a 'rebel' had been caught trying to curry support amongst the locals. Unluckily for the 'rebel', the people here would have nothing to do with his dissent and had reported the incident almost immediately. The accused party had quickly been located and detained. The 'rebel' had turned out to be no more than a boy of perhaps fifteen or sixteen. He was skinny and dirty, with no one to claim him. No doubt a street boy. After a brief conversation with the lad, Tan found him to be no more than a big mouth with no real support or ability to cause problems. Tan was confident that with some food and a proper education, the boy could be integrated back into society.

"Captain Tan," his thoughts were jarred back to reality by the sound of his name. The general was addressing him. It had been a few hours since his superior's arrival to the town. At present, he was overseeing some Tan's most recent activities.

"General Chui?"

Chui regarded Tan with a steady eye. He was an old Firebender, probably as old as the Fire Lord himself. He was hawk faced, with bony limbs and a hooded gaze. Tan felt like those amber eyes of his were staring right through him. He tried to ignore the strange chill that brought.

"Some of the guards reported you have a rebel in you cells?"

Tan blinked, surprised. He managed to compose himself quickly before answering.

"Hardly a rebel," he said with a laugh, "The boy is a disheveled, ignorant mess. More concerned with his next meal than the war, I assure you."

Chui didn't smile. Instead, his piercing gaze bore deeper into Tan, making the young captain feel like he was trying to stare a hole through his skull.

"He was speaking against the war, was he not?"

"Well yes, but-"

"Undermining Fire Nation authority?"

"I wouldn't go as far as to-"

"Bring him to me."

Unable to argue further, Tan did as he was instructed and ordered the boy be brought out.

He was in clean clothes now, thankfully, and had had a few good meals in his stomach. But his face was still awfully pale and he was a terribly thin, gangly sort of boy. Tan could feel something tighten in his chest as worry set in. Surely the General would realize as soon as he saw the boy that there was no threat. This misguided youth who had probably gotten separated from his parents and wanted someone to blame for it.

Yes, it was plain to see.

General Chui would see it.

"I am General Chui of the Imperial Forces," Chui said as he stalked towards the prisoner, "Do you understand why you were arrested?"

The boy had been looking nervously down at the ground. He looked up now, his eyes growing wide in fear.

"Y-yes sir," he said shakily.

"Can you name your crime?"

"I was trying to-"

"I said, can you name your crime?" the General repeated harshly.

The boy gulped and Tan had to resist the urge to step in. This wasn't his affair. The General had a right to interrogate his prisoners after all.

"Stirring unrest," the boy licked his lips, "T-treason to the Fire Nation."

"Exactly," Chui's smile was deadly.

After that, it was like watching a hawk take down an elephant rat in the field. Chui fired more questions at the boy, each answer making him appear guiltier and guiltier. Tan tried to come to his defense, telling the General about the state they'd found him in, the circumstances, his own recommendations as to punishment. Chui listened, nodding his aged head, but keeping his eyes trained on the boy.

"I see," was all he said, making a note in a ledger, "Take him back to his cell, I'll have my decision soon."

The guards who had escorted him in obeyed. The boy shot a pleading gaze to Tan, the young captain tried to send him a reassuring look. It was hard to do so when years of military training said his expression had to remain stony.

"You are very ready with your opinions on the matter," Chui commented, looking down at his notes.

Tan straightened.

"I only wish to be thorough, sir," he said confidently, "The unrest was worse when I arrived, I've managed to find some equilibrium with the people here since then. We've rarely had trouble makers."

" _Equilibrium_ ," the general repeated, sounding amused, "An interesting way of putting it. Yes, you've been doing a good job here. You're reports are excellent, if a little…overly involved."

"Sir?" Tan questioned, surprised.

"You trouble yourself with domestic affairs when we are trying to win a war, Captain," Chui's tone was pleasant, but those eyes of his were hard.

"Sir, my mandate-"

"Yes, I am aware," the general cut him off and was silent for a long moment, "I believe I have made my decision in regards to the rebel."

Tan waited. He felt anxious and a cold fist of dread curled in his stomach. He tried to brush it aside; there was no reason to feel like that over the fate of an Earth Kingdom boy after all.

He'd probably be given hard labour, which was close to Tan's recommendation.

"Execution."

The young captain's blood turned cold.

"Sir!" Tan protested, "The boy is young. Foolish, I'll grant you, but hardly worth-"

"We are at a fragile stage in this war, Captain," the general spoke over him, his hawk like gaze holding Tan silent, "Any dissent must be quashed immediately, without delay and without mercy. The Earth Kingdom must know it is not to be tolerated."

"I understand," Tan said, "But surely-"

"You are very young," General Chui's gaze pitied, like he thought he spoke to an ignorant child, "When you have had more experience at your post, you will truly begin to understand and your judgment on such matters will improve. For now, it is best you follow orders."

And what could Tan say to that?

It happened the next day. Tan could hardly look at the boy as he was dragged up onto the dais in the town's centre. A smattering of Earth Kingdom folk had left their homes to witness the execution of a rebel. Tan recognized the stony expressions and felt his stomach twist. He knew that look. He had been around the Earth Kingdom's inhabitants too long not to know it. They would watch this and it would only harden their resolve and their hatred.

The 'equilibrium' he had fought so hard for was about to be over turned.

He didn't expect riot or rebellion from them, but he knew things would be harder now. Much harder.

Stone endured. Stone never forgot.

It was a dark day. The clouds were black and heavy. There was a storm brewing in over the sea, Tan could practically taste it in the air. Everything felt charged and ready. The wind had picked up around them, making a few errant strands of his dark hair dance about his face.

He could see the boy trembling as he knelt down and the blindfold was tied over his eyes. The executioner stood behind him, his face a mask of grim indifference and the long, curved sword ready in his hand.

One of his officers read out the charges and the sentence. Thunder roared from high above their heads. The crowd remained silent and impassive.

"Please!" the boy was crying, "I didn't mean to! I'll never do it again! I promise! I-"

Tan tried to ignore the cries and looked towards the executioner. The man was waiting for his signal. Tan looked up to the balcony of the mayor's office where General Chui watched them, his hawk like gaze concentrated on him. Tan straightened his back and took in a deep breath. As he nodded to the executioner, the sky lit up as lighting struck from the heavens and the rain began to fall.

As the sword slid through the air, slicing the boy's neck from his shoulders in one sweep, Tan felt a sickness start in his heart. The body fell, blood washing away with the rainwater beating down on them. The crowd remained where they were. Silent and hard, even as they quickly became soaked.

Tan looked back up at the balcony. Chui had returned inside, no doubt to avoid the rain. He stood there himself, feeling the cold rain soak into his clothes, through his hair and over his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting it wash over him and knowing one thing.

That terrified, pale face would stick with him until the end of his days.

 **~ATLA~**

" _Find a healer!"_

The shout startled Katara from her dreams. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up in the narrow little bunk bed with a start. It was dark and she could hear the soft snores of fellow passengers. The ship swayed and lurched, shaking the single lamplight hanging on the wall, causing it to flicker and dance. Her stomach pitched with the sensation, making her wonder why she hadn't been woken earlier. Thunder clapped from outside, blending in with incessant creak and thud of tumbled belongings scattered over the wooden floors.

Groans of weariness and heavy breathing filled the over crowded cabin as faces, groggy with sleep, peered out from under blankets and in-between bunks to discover what had awoken them. The dim light caught their eyes, causing several to bury their heads back down. A baby's cry struck from somewhere in the shadows and was closely followed by the desperate hushing of its mother. A disgruntled lull began. Katara rubbed a hand over her face tiredly, trying to get rid the last vestiges of sleep and blearily looked around for the source of the original commotion.

More shouts followed.

Quickly, she rose from her bunk, taking care not to disturb the person beneath her as she scrambled down. Her feet hit the floor unsteadily and she had to tightly grasp the wooden ends of the bunk beds. She'd hit her shin on the wooden borders of the beds earlier and now the area permeated a dull pain. She was sure she had a bruise.

Katara quickly made her way to the source of the shouting. Careful not to be thrown by the precarious rocking of the boat, she grasped hold of the sides of other bunks, mumbling apologies every time she jostled someone. As she came to the stairs leading up to the deck, she could see water dripping down, having leaked in through the metal door. Before she could begin her climb, said door burst open and she was treated to a face full of icy wind and salt water. A haggard man stood in the doorway, looking down frantically.

"Ye shouldn't be comin' out on deck missh," he told her hurriedly as soon as he saw her, "The storms _right_ brutal."

She squinted up at him. He was the First Mate. He had been the one to show her where the passengers' quarters were when she first came aboard. Her impressions of him were fairly positive. He was an aged man; probably as old as Gran Gran, with a balding head he kept covered by a thick, woolen cap and a scraggly, grey beard. His accent was thick and he spoke with a slight slur to his words. He had a small hunch but moved quickly. With a friendly smile and a few kind words, he had won Katara's gentle admiration.

"Someone said they needed a healer!" she called to him above the howling wind, the salt water gushed down to her bare feet, making her toes numb with it's chill.

"Yer a healer miss?" he looked oddly relieved, "Ye'd better come up then, the boys are terrified to move 'em till they get a proper say so, poor lad keeps sshcreamin' 'is lungs out. Watch yersshelf though, she's a nasty one she is."

Katara nodded, climbing the precariously wet steps. The First Mate offered her his arm and she accepted it gratefully. Unconsciously tightening her grasp as her gaze met the scene on deck.

Outside was like something out of a nightmare. Lightning flashed dangerously over head and the rolling dark clouds blackened the already pitched night world. If it hadn't been for the First Mate's grip on her, she was sure the wind would have bowled her over. Rain hit her at a slant, stinging the skin of her cheeks with its arctic touch and soaking her through in moments. She shivered, out of cold or fear, she didn't know.

Men were yelling, frantically trying to get a hold of the rigging. She was vaguely aware of someone running up and tying a rope around her waist. She noticed then that all the crew had the same thing done to them.

Huge waves crashed onto the deck as the boat soared up and over them. Her stomach dropped each time they descended and she clung ever harder to the arm of the First Mate.

It was hard to see straight with the wind and water pelting down at her and the ship lurching, trying to knock her off her feet. Eventually though, after a trek that seemed to take an age, she was close enough to see what had the men so panicked.

One of the large, wooden beams had fallen on top of a crewmember, pining him to the deck of the ship and crushing the lower half of his body. Three men were trying to lift the heavy load, heaving and slipping in the wet and cold. The man they were trying to rescue was screaming, but the wailing wind drowned out any whisper of his desperate pleas.

"It's the bleedin', miss," the First Mate called over howling wind, "We can't stop it and we need to get the beam off 'em!"

Katara only nodded, letting go of his arm and kneeling beside the injured man. No, not a man. _A boy_. One of the watching crewmen held a flickering lantern up, its light dim. It was difficult to tell in the dark, but he seemed younger than her. His wet hair was plastered to his head, his skin was so white it was like the blood had rushed out of him and his pale eyes were dulled with pain. He was barely moving and Katara suspected it was taking all his strength to stay awake. She could see the dark stain of blood soaking in with the rain and seawater into his clothes, some of it washing away with the storm.

"Can you lift it?" she yelled at the men.

"It's stuck tight!" the tallest called back, "We can't unhinge it!"

Swiping a dripping lock of hair from her face, Katara turned her attention to the beam. It was at least twice as thick as her and probably more than twice as tall if stood up. She bit down on her bottom lip, taking in how much force might be needed to remove the offending object without causing more damage to the injured crewman.

"When I say so, you pull him away as quickly and as gently as you can!" she shouted her instructions over the gale. In the darkness, she could just make out the seamen nodding in unison. She took several deep breaths.

There was enough water around to aid her, but Katara had never attempted bending in the middle of a storm like this. She stood slowly, ensuring her footing on the deck was as secure as she could make it and then began her work.

It took more effort than she was used to, the jostling of the ship and the uneven fall of the rain made it near impossible to hold the flow of the water and she could feel it sloshing over and disobeying her as the fury of the storm willed it into rebellion. Breathing hard, she concentrated the churning water, using it to push the beam up.

"Now!" she yelled, as she was finally able to get the beam high enough off the ground to free the struggling man. The others worked quickly, pulling the man out of harms way as Katara did her best to hold the beam. With visible effort, she made one last push. The water surged, knocking the beam away completely. It crashed onto the opposite side of the deck, rolling away until it hit the side of the ship.

Panting, she paused to catch her breath and then issued more orders.

"Take him below!" she called, "I can't do anything for him out here!"

As she watched the crippled body being taken away, heard the frightening clash of thunder and felt the sharp tug of the rope around her waist, she tried to remember what had gotten her to this point in her life.

 _You're wasting your talent_ , a snide, cruel voice hissed in her mind, _A healer? All you will ever do is patch up those more daring than you._

Angry, she brushed the thought away and took another deep breath to calm herself. The wind hit her face, throwing her sopping hair back into the torrent. She could feel it twisting her locks out of the tight braid she had secured it in only a few hours ago, setting it free. Her bare feet now numb with cold, slipped twice. Strong arms were always there to pull her back up.

 _This is who I am_ , she told herself.

As she made her way back to the door down below deck, she paused to listen to the wind. In the back of her mind, she could hear the other voice again.

 _You could be so much more._

 **~ATLA~**

 _The South Pole, eight months ago…_

The air was icy, making Katara shiver. She smiled a little though. It had been a long time since she had been in the frigid climate of the South Pole and she had missed that stinging coolness. Standing out on the deck of the great metallic ship, she could barely feel her nose, as it turned numb with the cold. Her cheeks, she was sure, were glowing red and the wind had whipped her loose hair into a thick, tangled mess.

 _She didn't care._

She strained her eyes against the white glare of all the snow, looking out onto the horizon for home. The steady _chug_ of the steamboat as it made it's way through the ice-covered waters was the only sound she could hear. If she looked down, she could see the ice cracking and floating away from the hull as they burled their way through the frozen crust. Instead though, she kept her eyes strained on the place she knew for sure home would be.

Finally, she spotted it. Elation grew in her and she clutched the rails of the ship, leaning forward a little. She recognized the sails of the fishing boats lined up against the shore and even from this distance, she could see the people dressed in furs walking up and down the shoreline. Some stopped to watch the approaching boat, but most moved away from the docks as soon as it came into view, hurrying smaller figures along with them. Katara was too far to recognize anyone.

The wall of ice that had once surrounded her village was gone. She remembered it had been badly damaged the last time she had seen it. Now it had disappeared entirely. It hadn't been very high, not like she'd heard the city of the Northern Water Tribe had and was nothing compared to the high stonewalls of Ba Sing Se, but it had seemed gigantic to her as a child.

She wondered what her family was doing right now and immediately felt her stomach clench. It had been so long, _would they be happy to see her?_

She shook her head at the thought. Of course they would. Perhaps they thought she had died, perhaps they thought she was still in that prison, perhaps _they…_

Sighing, she pushed herself away from the railing and looked up at the cloudy skies. They were that pale, grey colour that came before the snow. She took a deep breath in. How long had it been she had seen it? She wasn't so sure anymore. When she had been imprisoned, she had spent many a night dreaming of soaking her skin in the freezing white and making snow angels all day long. She and Hama had sat by the campfire at night and reminisced about their home. Those had been the nights she had loved Hama best…

Thoughts of Hama chilled her to the bone more than the wintery weather of the South Pole ever could. Her stomach lurched with a mix of anger and guilt as the woman's face came to mind.

 _There's no running forever_ , a harsh voice whispered in her head.

She shook herself.

"I'm not running," she whispered softly, "I'm home."

 _You'll never be home_ , the voice retorted nastily, _not really. You don't belong anywhere. Not after what you've done.._.

She hastily squashed it down.

"We'll be landing soon, miss," a gruff voice to her side made her jump.

She turned and smiled shakily at the crewman. He was a stout, Earth Kingdom man with a jutting, black beard and rosy, red cheeks. He nodded to her and left her alone again. With a gnawing feeling beginning in her gut, Katara stared out to her old home and fought back a few tears. Unsure of what to expect, she just watched as they drew closer and closer.

Eventually, the ship docked and she found herself walking down a slippery plank to the freezing surface below. A small pack was thrown over her shoulder. She had never needed much in her travels since escaping the Fire Nation prison and owned little of any sentimental value. She had lived the past few years on the money she could earn from healing and whatever odd jobs she had been able to find. Most of which she had saved to pay her fare back home. She had spent some time with an Earth Kingdom healer, learning about herbs and had purchased a small supply for her own personal use.

The dock was less bustling than she remembered. There were merchants coming in, a few of the older men and women trading and haggling wares. The collection of people was sparse though. Young mothers, but no fathers and children being led around by the elderly. Boys barely old enough to carry a spear standing guard, fidgeting as they stood watch on the docks.

But the worst thing was the blatant Fire Nation banner hanging high on a metal pole. It flapped in the icy wind, the flash of red amongst so much white seemed like the ultimate abomination. A sick feeling entered Katara's stomach. She looked away, all the time feeling that looming presence. There were no Fire Nation soldiers that she could see, but that didn't mean they weren't around. The ship she'd come on had had to pass through a military blockade. She had been hidden bellow deck while the captain showed a trading pass to the soldiers. It had taken nearly ever coin she had saved to make this trip.

There was no going back.

She approached the first familiar face she saw, a young woman by the name of Miri. She had been a friend of Katara's as a child and their fathers had trained as warriors together. However, they had grown apart after Katara had become engrossed in her waterbending training. Whilst Miri had been learning the skills needed to be a wife, mother and homemaker, Katara's studies had borne a far more practical use (at least in her youthful opinion). She had learned to heal and to _fight_ ; waterbenders were as essential as the warriors in a battle. Unlike the traditions of their sister tribe in the North Pole, they trained men and women alike to defend themselves with their bending and to protect the village. They had always been a small tribe, and it took everyone working together to keep it safe.

Katara had always been proud of her bending and that misguided pride had only added to the tension in hers and Miri's friendship. Their relationship had ended on some childish squabble or other, nothing Katara could remember specifically. Looking at her old friend now, she was sure Miri's education had given her more happiness than Katara's ever could. The evidence of this was apparent when she noticed the small child clinging to the other woman's leg, shying away as he saw her.

Miri turned at Katara's approach. She had been bundling fish into a woven bag; the silvery creatures rested on top of a small pile of sea prunes and dried seal jerky.

Katara wasn't sure what to do, so she planted a hesitant smile on her lips and waited for the woman's reaction.

But none came.

Not a spark of recognition registered in Miri's eyes, instead a look of polite, but wary inquiry entered them.

"Can I help you, miss?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and laying a hand on the shoulder of the child next to her. A little boy, Katara noticed. His big, blue eyes turned up to gaze at her and she spent a few seconds trying to see if there was anything immediately familiar about him. Sokka had had a crush on Miri before everything had happened. Ten years was a long time. _Could Sokka have-?_

"Miss?" Miri asked again, disrupting her thoughts.

Katara opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She waited, wondered when Miri would really _see_ her. _Surely she hadn't changed that much?_

She briefly took a mental note of herself.

She had lost all her puppy fat and it had taken years for her to regain her muscle tone. She was wearing Earth Kingdom garb, but the clothes were patched at best and had seen far better days. Her cloak was warm, but would do little against the wet snow. She hadn't had her hair in any of the traditional styles in years, it hung loose about her shoulders, framing her face and running down her back. She hadn't trimmed it in a while and was sure the thick mess looked completely disheveled.

She eyed Miri's two, straight braids that fell either side of her small, dainty looking face. A sharp pang of jealousy rushed through Katara's stomach; she had never been as pretty as Miri. The girl had always been like a doll and she had only continued to blossom as she grew older. Katara's skin was weather worn, her face too round and her features too plain to ever be considered beautiful. Years of training and hardship had made her more muscular and lithe than other women. Suddenly, she was glad Miri didn't know who she was.

"I'm looking for Chief Hakoda," she said, finally finding her voice, "Or his son, Sokka."

Miri's eyes narrowed a little, her suspicion evident.

"I don't know where they are right now," she said, her tone a little cool, "If you have anything imperative, the Elders can hear you."

Katara frowned slightly.

Not willing to say anything on the matter, she nodded her thanks and asked instead where she might find them. The suspicion lessened slightly and Miri stiffly gave her directions. Katara found herself pausing still, wondering for a moment if she would be recognized, but Miri turned away quickly, dragging the little blue-eyed boy along with her.

With a sigh, Katara made her way towards the main part of the village. She could feel a lot of eyes following her now. She looked up to meet several of them, but they all turned away and pretended to ignore her. Not one person recognized her, or if they did, they didn't react. She recognized several other playmates as she wandered through the place she had grown up, but mostly she noticed the faces that weren't there. The other waterbenders were all gone, as were many of the warriors.Ten years had done little to heal the rift caused by the Fire Nation's continuing thirst for power.

Snow crunching beneath her boots, Katara could feel her anxiousness grow. What had Miri meant? She hadn't said Dad and Sokka weren't there, just that she didn't know where they were. _But that could mean anything, couldn't it?_

So consumed in her worries, she barely avoided bumping into the shorter figure scuffling towards her.

"Pardon," a familiar voice intoned absently.

Katara froze, whipping her head around.

"Wait!" she yelled, the back she was staring at, the old woman with her grey hair and hunched figure turned but didn't look at her. Her attention was downwards, she was holding a fishing-net in her bony hands and it looked like she had been mending it.

Katara recognized this old woman.

Swallowing hard, Katara approached the face she hadn't seen in so many years. Time and hardship had not treated this face well. Wrinkles had deepened into crevices and the skin had become waxen, giving the impression of constant illness. Her bony hands were even more gnarled than Katara remembered.

After so long, _it was Gran Gran_.

"Excuse me?" she croaked out.

Gran Gran finally raised her head and squinted up at Katara, then her eyes widened and she gave a little gasp, dropping the net.

"Kya?" she whispered, her aging face growing pale.

Katara bit back a cry and shook her head, her throat becoming tight.

"Katara," she managed to choke out, "It's me Gran Gran."

"Katara?" Gran Gran reached up and clasped her granddaughter's face in her aging hands, tears falling down her wizened cheeks, "You're free! You're alive!"

When Gran Gran wrapped her arms around Katara and drew her close, the waterbender finally let the tears fall.

"Oh, my sweet girl," her grandmother sobbed, "I knew you'd come back to us."

"I'm home now," Katara whispered, "I'm finally home!"

She spent a long time crying.

 **~ATLA~**

 _On board The Rising Sun, present day…._

Katara snapped awake as her patient gave out a pained moan.

Sitting up in her chair, she moved her neck, wincing a little at the stiffness. Blinking several times to shift the sleep from her heavy eyes, she picked up a wet rag and gently dabbed it across the sleeping man's flushed face. His skin burned to the touch, so hot Katara half expected steam to rise when she applied the cloth and his breath came out in labored gasps. It was painful to watch. His thin frame twisted and lurched as he groaned and gasped. Katara was half sure any minute now she would hear one of his bones breaking.

She had managed to heal most of the damage done to his torso, that being a few cracked ribs and some gashes. The swelling was going down and the bruises beginning to fade. The fever though had started the day before. Breaking it was turning into an up hill struggle as every remedy she administered was met with failure. It didn't help that her relatively tiny supply of herbs was running low. Her healing was only able to do so much.

What worried her most was the look of his leg.

His entire left leg was beyond repair. As soon as Katara had touched it, she knew there was nothing she could do. It was completely shattered. She tried her best to mend what she could, but it was useless. The flow of chi going into his leg wasn't just blocked off; it had been severed. There was also a deep gash in his calf. She had done everything she could to keep it clean and mend it, but still didn't like the look of it and was worried about infection setting in. Worse still, there was damage to his pelvis and the base of his back. Thankfully, he was still able to move his right leg. It was difficult to tell if Teo would ever really walk again. At best, and this with a miracle that somehow made his left leg workable, he would walk with a heavy limp the rest of his life and likely require crutches to get around. At worst…

She tried not to think about that.

"Easy there," she murmured soothingly as her patient gave another groan, "You're going to be just fine."

 _False hope from a false healer._

She bristled at the voice, her hand stilling for a moment before she returned to her work. Foolish, that's all she was being. She knew what the voice was and she knew she didn't have to listen to it.

 _Deluded, aren't we?_

 _Go away_ , she hissed silently.

The voice laughed.

But it didn't say anything more.

A few hours passed and Katara heard a sharp knock on the door. She ignored it, focusing intently on her patient. It wasn't until the First Mate gave her a tap on the shoulder that she looked up from her work. He looked as tired as she felt. His wrinkly face sagged and the slur in his speech was even more prominent. The poor man had been awake almost as long as her.

"The captain's wantin' to ssshee ye," he told her, "I'll watch the lad till ye return."

She hesitated, but nodded and rose from her chair, straightening her clothes as she did. A useless effort. Her blue tunic was beyond fixing. Smelling of sweat and herbs, it hung off her body in an awkward fashion.

With one last worried glance at the injured young man, she exited the cabin. She had met the captain once before, in a brief encounter during which she had given him most of the money she had for passage. He was a tall, skinny man with a long white beard and meaty hands. He smelt strongly of tobacco and sour alcohol. When she entered his cabin, he was looking over a large navigational chart.

He lifted his head as she entered.

"Ah, the healer," he said, his accent thick, "Come along in. And can I get ye anything? A touch of rice wine perhaps?"

Katara politely refused.

He shrugged and proceeded to pour himself some of the strong liquid from a decanter on his desk.

"You wanted to speak with me?" Katara asked cautiously.

"Aye," he took a long sip of his wine, watching her curiously, "I hear you're doing a right good job with my crewman."

"He's strong," she said, "I think he'll make it. The only thing to worry about at this point is his fever."

"You'll know more about it than me, I reckon," he waved her off, the opened one of the drawers at his desk, extracting a small, leather pouch. He tossed it up in his hand a couple of times, as though weighing it up and then threw it to her. Startled, Katara's reflexes kicked in just in time and she snatched the purse out the air.

Confused, she peered at the contents. It was about the same amount of money she had paid to come aboard.

"Your fare," he said gruffly, "I'm returning it. We'll call what you've done already as payment."

She chewed the inside of her lip thoughtfully; it had taken a lot to convince this man to give her passage in the first place… _why was he being so generous now?_

"That's…kind of you," she said suspiciously.

He gave a bark of laughter, surprising her again.

"It's not kindness," he said levelly, fixing her with a cool stare, "I'm a superstitious man and I don't like to be in debt to anyone. We were lucky to have you on board and that's that."

She didn't understand the connection between superstition and debt, but she nodded all the same. She knew very little about the beliefs the old seamen kept, but growing up in the Water Tribe she had always known to respect the spirits of the seas and storms.

"Thanks anyway," she said, pocketing the pouch.

The Captain nodded and pulled out an ornate, ivory pipe. He stuffed some tobacco into it from a small box on his desk and used a flint to light it. Unsure if she should leave or not, Katara merely watched him, her face blank as she waited.

"If I may ask," she said suddenly, a question having bugged her for a while, "Why don't you have a ship's doctor on board?"

"He died," the Captain sucked a little on his pipe to get it going, "'bout a month ago. We pick up a replacement at the next port. But like I said, we were _damned_ lucky to have ye on board."

"I guess," she murmured softly.

"So…ye really are a waterbender, eh?" the Captain took a puff on his pipe, sending the acrid smelling smoke into the air, "I thought you were all holed up in the North."

"I've never been to the North," Katara scrounged up her nose at the smell, but otherwise looked on passively at the man, "Your man will need to be kept warm until you reach shore. I can carry on with my healing sessions till we get there, but then you'll have to turn him over to one of the Earth Kingdom healers."

"Yes, I'd imagine you'd want to skedaddle as soon as we reach land," the Captain looked at her seriously, "I won't let nothing happen to ye while you're on board, but there's members of this bloody crew I wouldn't put it passed to sell you out to the nearest Fire Nation officer they can find. There's still a pretty bounty on waterbenders and you seem the right age."

"The right age to be the Avatar?" Katara snorted despite herself, "Captain, the Avatar perished along with the Air Nomads. If he had been reincarnated into any of my people, he'd be a child now, hardly a danger to the Fire Nation."

"Hmmm," he shrugged, taking another puff of his pipe, "Maybe the Avatar is gone, but I reckon that won't stop them none. No, you best get to where you're going as soon as may be. The Fire Nation hasn't taken all of the Western Kingdom, but they're mighty close to doin' it."

Katara nodded, turning to leave.

"And that's not what I meant when I said ye were the right age," the captain added suddenly.

She stopped, not turning around.

"I know what you meant," she whispered, and disappeared through the door.

It was about a day later that a fever, much like the one the injured young man suffered, spread through the ship. Katara found herself waylaid with more patients than she could handle as several of the passengers and three members of the crew succumbed to the illness. The first thing she concerned herself with was quarantining the injured young man from them, the last thing she needed was for him to get sicker than he already was.

She had the First Mate as her only assistance, with the loss of now four crewmembers, the Captain was keeping the rest working even harder to get the ship to land. The storm had blown them off course and the loss of the main sail had slowed them down considerably.

Katara's small store of herbs waned dangerously. She started raiding the cook's stores for spices and cooking herbs. She almost broke down with relief when she found a clay jar of Yarrow tea in one of the cupboards. The cook commented the old ship's doctor had given it to him several months previously, but he had never thought to put it to use. One of the Earth Kingdom healers Katara had met on her journey home had recommended it for reducing fevers. She had never had occasion to use it or see it's effect, but she was growing desperate.

She had the cook make a light broth and fed the patients on it and the Yarrow tea for three days. This and her healing water seemed to do the trick and the fever soon broke. She placed the cook in charge, ordering they continue to be fed broth and a little bread when their strength had returned.

She had left the First Mate to watch over the injured man and keep the wound clean, but he had his ship duties as well and had sometimes been taken away by the Captain. Katara therefore could only ensure that her last patient was wrapped up warmly as she hurried between the parts of the ship. Though his fever had also finally broken, she hadn't been able to check on him in over a day.

She dragged her tired feet along the gangway of the ship to his room, feeling drained but grimly determined to see this through. She hadn't slept in over two days and the strain was making her feel irritable. She had been short with several of the crew already, her temper quick to rise at the slightest provocation.

She was sure she would regret it at some point.

But right then she was just too tired to _care_.

The night was clear outside, the light of a bright, full moon flooding in across the dark sea. It energized her a little and filled her with its siren's call. It was nights like this that Hama had liked best and for a time, so had she. Now she turned her face from the moon, like a guilty child who couldn't face her parent.

When she opened the door, a disturbing sight lay before her. The Captain and the First Mate were peering over the young man, concerned expressions marring their faces. One glance at the boy was enough to guess why.

He was twitching all over, his skin pale and clammy and his eyes shut tight. A look of pure agony stretched his mouth into a grimace and he clutched his leg, groaning in pain.

"It burns!" he panted, voice quivering, " _Dad_ – Dad help! It burns!"

She was at his side in an instant.

"How long has he been like this?" she snapped, frantically trying to make him lie back down.

"Don't know," the First Mate look perplexed, his aging face showing all his weariness, "He was fine when I brought him his supper earlier. Right chatty he was too, complained a little that his leg was aching, but told me not to bother you."

"Someone should have called me," she muttered, shaking her head as she removed the blankets to inspect his leg. It was the smell that hit her first, sweet and sickly. She found it hard to believe the First Mate hadn't noticed it when he was feeding the man. She carefully unwrapped the bandages from the wound on his leg, hissing sharply at the sight before her. The last time she had checked it, the swelling had been going down and there hadn't been any sign of discolouration. Now the skin around the gash was turning green. Pus oozed from the wound and the leg swelled red.

"So stupid, stupid, stupid," she berated herself.

She should have come to check on him sooner instead of leaving him in someone else's hands. This was the very infection she had feared might occur. In the back of her mind she kept trying to think about what she might have missed. Had there been a splinter of wood buried in the wound? Had she cleaned it properly? She hadn't had any of the herbs necessary to fight this and had used alcohol to clean it, a trick one of the Earth Kingdom healers had shown her. Had it been wrong?

"This is bad," she breathed.

"You can help though?" the ship's captain asked gruffly, looking at his writhing crewman, "You can do something?"

Katara nodded.

"I'll need bandages, stitching needle, thread and clean water," she told him, "And two men to hold him down. I'll try to save his leg, but if I can't heal it, I may have to amputate."

She knew she would. She'd seen this once before, a Fire Nation civilian she had tried to save, much to Hama's displeasure. The wound had festered and began to spread. She had been reluctant to remove the limb then and the man had died as the poisons coursed through out his body.

It was a good thing that night was full moon and her was bending peaked, or she wouldn't have been able to do anything for this man. The captain followed her orders quickly and within minutes, she was prepared. She tied back her hair and got to work, bending the water onto her hands. The familiar healing glow surrounded them and she took a deep breath, concentrating as she touched the leg. She tried to ease the pain and worked on lessening the swelling, but the moment she touched him, she knew it had to come off. Checking his skin colour visibly, her worst fears were confirmed. The flesh was infected and starting to rot away. She had to catch it before it spread further.

She looked up at the men and shook her head.

"It's too infected. You'll need to hold him," she said sternly, and then looked at the captain, "I suggest you bring him something to drink."

The man struggled when the First Mate took him by the shoulders held him down, screaming and begging. The captain called for the items and sent another of his crew to help the First Mate. They poured rum down the patient's throat, he spluttered a little, but seemed to calm down. Katara looked at him grim faced. She wished she had a proper set of amputation saws, like the ones she had seen Earth Kingdom healers use out in the field. They could cut through the flesh and bone within seconds.

What she was about to attempt she had only seen done once before, during the start of the war when her tribe's healers had deemed emergency field medical training essential. It required speed, precision and absolute concentration. She had to create a hair thin blade of water that would slice its way through the flesh and bone. The tricky part was maintaining it as it cut through, keeping it as hard as steel. She had sliced through wood and stone before, but never a human being.

So much could go wrong.

To start with, she used a leather belt to create a tourniquet around his thigh, pulling it tightly to cut off blood flow and then encased his entire leg in ice, hoping to numb it enough to dull as much of the pain as she could. She left it on as long as she dared, then let it melt away and prodded his skin sharply with her fingernail.

"Can you feel that?" she asked.

He shook his head, looking frightened.

 _Spirits_ , he really was just a boy.

"What's your name?" it was the first time she had been able to ask him, most of the crew had just called him 'the lad.'

"T-Teo," he chocked out.

"You're going to be okay, Teo," she said soothingly, "I just need you to be brave a little longer, can you do that for me?"

He nodded.

"Try to stay awake," she told him gently, "I'm not going to lie, this will hurt. The important thing is to keep fighting, understand? It might save your life."

He nodded again, looking terrified.

She placed a piece of leather between his teeth and told him to bite down hard, and then she prepared the leg. She would have to cut it just below the knee.

She took a deep breath, brought her arms up, the water following her movements like a crystal shadow. She exhaled and struck.

Teo reared in pain, screaming. The two crewmen held him firm and Katara got to work. She stemmed the bleeding at quickly as she could, wrapping the skin around the wound, sewing in the stitches and wrapping it again in bandages. She had to be careful how she wrapped it, too much pressure and the patient would be in pain for the rest of his life, or in the worst case, die. Not enough and the wound might open up.

When she was sure Teo wouldn't bleed to death, she checked him for signs of shock. It was the shock that killed more often than the injury. It was why she had told him to keep fighting.

Thankfully, the patient was still yelping in pain, tears running steadily down his face. She bent more water into her hands and worked on lessening his discomfort, improving blood flow and healing the suture. Slowly, he started to calm down.

She whispered soothing things to him, assuring him he would be just fine and of how brave he had been. In his pain, he looked so much younger than her. Perhaps he was.

A couple of hours later, now wide-awake and trembling slightly, Katara finally left the room. She had long since washed the blood off her hands, but some had splashed onto her clothes, staining them with red splatter. She'd have to work on getting it out later. She didn't really have clothes to spare.

Feeling restless, she climbed up onto the deck and looked up at the bright, full moon. She found a seat out on deck and stayed there for a very long time, just watching the dark waters of the ocean churn beneath the ship. Tonight, she had saved her patient's life.

And crippled him in the process.

Tears fell freely down her face. She looked down at her trembling hands and let loose heaving sobs. So consumed in her grief for the pain she had caused that young man, she didn't notice someone sitting down beside her until a hand was placed on her shoulder.

"Drink?" said the First Mate, offering her a flask.

 **~ATLA~**

 _The South Pole, eight months ago…_

As Katara blew out the lantern and settled into her fur bedding for the night, her thoughts started to drift towards the past day. A warm spurt of happiness settled in her stomach and she smiled, burying her face in the familiar smells of home.

She felt safe for the first time in nearly ten years.

Her welcome back to the tribe had been met with mixed feelings; fear she was sure due to the Fire Nation's continued raids. She wouldn't let herself be taken again though. She was finally home and this was where she was going to stay.

This was where she belonged.

 _This was home._

After all these years, after Hama and the war and all her struggling, she was finally here. Finally at the end of a very long journey.

As she finally drifted off to sleep, the resolution was in her mind.

No matter what happened, she was never going to leave the South Pole again.

 **~ATLA~**

 **A/N** : I want to put more focus on Katara's ability as a healer in this story. That being said, I have no medical experience. Please take any of my explanations regarding injuries or the ways in which a waterbender might be able to heal them with a pinch of salt. They are often a mix of an afternoon of research and a liberal imagination.

For those wondering what on earth Teo is doing on that ship…all things come in good time.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Trapped

"Destiny? What would a boy know of destiny? If a fish lives its whole life in this river, does he know the river's destiny? No! Only that it runs on and on out of his control. He may follow where it flows, but he cannot see the end. He cannot imagine the ocean." – Jeong Jeong, _The Deserter_

 **Trapped**

 _Autumn, 9AG…_

 _Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…_

He counted off the footsteps in his head as each footfall echoed up to his hiding place. Cradled in the ventilation, he lay out on his stomach, carefully watching the by play that went on below him through metal grids. Two Fire Nation soldiers patrolled the area, the night guard left to keep the prisoners in check. It shouldn't be too hard to incapacitate the two of them, but he wasn't yet sure if there were anymore on their way.

There was a soft shuffling behind him. He tensed at the noise and turned his head. At the familiar mocking grin of the carved face behind him, he relaxed. In the dim light and through his own mask, he could just make out his partner's, a green and gold dragon, teeth barred fiercely to the world. The dragon masked man made three gestures with his hand, indicating that there were no other guards in the vicinity.

He nodded his head, returning a series of signals of his own.

 _Three…two…one…_

They timed it well, he thought, as both men slipped into position, dropping through the vents. Their feet barely thumped on the metal floors as each targeted their prey. A strike to the back of the head with the hilt of his sword, swiftly catching the body before it hit the ground and quietly dragging the guard into an empty room.

Everything so far was going according to plan.

Next came the cells.

He pilfered the keys from one of the unconscious guards. They slipped into the brig silently.

It was almost dark and the only light to be seen was a torch on the far wall at the end of a metal corridor. On either side of the walk way lay a row of metal cages, bars stretching from floor to ceiling. In the dim light, he could just make out the shapes and shadows of the huddled prisoners in their cells.

With the help of the keys, they made quick work of the metal doors, swinging them wide to let the men out.

Water Tribe men, all of them.

Looks of relief swept through the darkness, a few of the men even gave him a pat on the back as they walked out of the cells. He made the gesture for them to follow, there were maybe a dozen added to their number now.

"Follow the Blue Spirit," he heard one man whisper to another.

He bit back the urge to sigh.

He led them from the cells quickly, his dragon-masked partner taking the rear guard. Keeping a few steps ahead of them, the Blue Spirit always ensured he was the first to look round corners. Like passing shadows, they moved. The Blue Spirit scouting ahead and then gesturing for the men to follow when the way was safe.

They escaped through a side doorway, slipping out onto an unmonitored part of the deck. There was a small boat following in the water, silent and unseen. A team of waterbenders controlled its movements, keeping it completely hidden from sight in the pitch darkness of the night.

The Water Tribe men climbed down into the boat, silently as they could. It was a deadly still night. The only sound that perforated the cool air was the gentle lap of the waves against the ship. The moon was gone from the sky, darkening the world to pitch black. The only light that shone in the ocean was from the Fire Nation ship and one small, flickering lantern on the Water Tribe boat. As the prisoners were all finally gather into the boat, their rescuers were prepared to follow when a series of shouts echoed through the ship.

 _Damn it! Too soon!_

There wasn't a second to lose. The Blue Spirit frantically gestured for the boat to go without them, then grabbed the Green Dragon and yanked him back through the door and up into the vent system. The boat extinguished its lantern and slipped away silently into the dark night, leaving the two men still on board. The Blue Spirit had just managed to pull the grid into position when a group of soldiers dashed passed their hiding place.

The Green Dragon turned his snarling mask to the Blue Spirit.

"So what now?" he asked lowly and then added, much to the other man's eternal annoyance, "Hotman."

 **~ATLA~**

 _The South Pole, six months ago…_

Being home again wasn't as Katara had imagined it.

Setting down her sewing work, she leaned across the tent to lift the flap. Outside she could see nothing but freshly fallen snow covering all the other dwellings. Sunlight had briefly escaped its cloudy prison, providing the perfect opportunity for the village children to take advantage of the day. She recognized Miri's son, Akiak, as one of them.

Frowning, she scanned the area for any sign of her childhood friend, but could not place her. Relieved, she closed the flap again and returned to her work.

Since her arrival home less than a month before, Katara had been subject to many varying reactions to her return. Most, like Gran Gran, were just happy to have her home, but there were a few who watched her with raised suspicion, even resentment.

Perhaps it stemmed from her refusal to talk about the prison, but Katara didn't care. She wasn't ready to go back there, not even in memory. So many of her brethren had perished in those prisons, perhaps some were still rotting away. But she could do nothing for them. Did the families of those men and women really want to know about their loved ones' last days? Did they want to know that after a time you started to forget who was there with you? That every moment became centred on the few times you would be given water each day.

It was a pathetic and torturous existence.

Katara knew she could very well be dead by now if she had remained imprisoned in that hopeless place.

But that only brought forth thoughts of _Hama_.

"You seem preoccupied."

Katara snapped from her contemplations, looking up to find Gran Gran had opened the tent flap and was smiling down at her fondly. She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her own face as her muscles instantly relaxed in the matriarch's presence.

"I haven't done this in a while," Katara said sheepishly, holding up the fur-skinned cloak she was sewing together, "I'm _really_ rusty."

Gran Gran leaned down, inspecting the garment with a practiced eye and giving her granddaughter an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder.

"It will come," the old woman said knowingly, "Everything returns in time."

She gave Katara a meaningful look.

Patting her grandmother's hand, Katara shook her head.

"Not everything," she commented a little sadly, thinking of the day she was taken by the Fire Nation, "Some things just can't.

Gran Gran sat beside her, her movement slow as she lowered her old bones to the ground. She heaved a little and Katara reached up immediately to steady her aging grandmother, a look of concern clouding her face.

Gran Gran smiled softly.

"You're a good girl," she said, patting Katara's arm, "You always have been."

Katara flinched.

"I don't know what you went through to get back here," Gran Gran whispered, "I can't even imagine what it was like in those prisons…but you're home now. You've brought back something to this village I haven't seen in a long time…you've brought hope."

It was finally too much. For years now, Katara had carried around her guilt like a boulder strapped to her back. She could always feel it there, that heavy burden she had no right to be rid of. Her mother's death, the lives of all those men and women in the prisons that she could have saved, the horrible things she knew how to do, the people she had hurt and even Hama… She felt something cold squeeze around her heart and dropped her sewing. Biting down on her lower lip, she shook her head sharply, ignoring the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Hope?" Katara couldn't keep the bitter tinge from her voice, "Of what? That other waterbenders will return? That the war is nearly over? That our loved ones haven't suffered in vain? Then it's a _lie_ , Gran Gran. What hope could I ever possibly bring? I'm the _worst_ kind of person there is."

She finally broke off, allowing the tears to fall. She was barely aware of her grandmother gathering her up into her arms and hugging her close. She tried to draw away immediately, but the old woman held fast and in the end, Katara didn't have the heart to push her away. She needed the comfort more that she thought was possible for a human being.

"What happened to you, my little Waterbender?" she heard Gran Gran murmur sadly, "This bitterness…this self loathing…what has hurt you so?"

Part of her wanted to answer, but a bigger, more terrified part was far too ashamed to do so. She bit her lower lip and willed the tears to stop, knowing that if she stayed like this for much longer, she would tell her grandmother everything.

 _Including Hama._

"I'm fine," she tried to sound cheery and broke the embrace gently, "I'm just-I'm just a bit over emotional right now. You know, with being home and everything. I just missed you all so much and-and I can't wait to see Dad and Sokka."

Gran Gran had told her that her brother and father had gone hunting far to the south and would be gone for several weeks. At first, Katara had been disappointed they were not there, but still excited about seeing them and then the suspicion had settled in. Every time she asked her grandmother anything about them or about the other men missing from the tribe, her expression would grow tight. In fact, Katara was certain by now that Gran Gran was lying to her.

As she mentioned her remaining family, Gran Gran's face became grave, guilt evident in her eyes and Katara knew now was the time to ask. The time to confirm what she already knew must be the truth. Sokka and her father were not coming back anytime soon.

"Dad and Sokka aren't on a hunting trip, are they?" she whispered quietly.

"No," the older woman sighed, "They're not."

"Why lie?" she asked, her voice perhaps a little too harsh. Her chest felt constricted though, like an icy fist was closing around her heart. A mixture of betrayal and dread filled her.

"It was easier," Gran Gran looked ancient in that moment, "You had finally returned. I thought if I sent a message immediately, they would come back and you would never have to worry."

 _Like some fragile little bird_ , Katara thought resentfully, _I'm not going to break. I am not weak._

 _No, not weak_ , the Voice whispered in her head, _so powerful. More so than any mere waterbender…but wasted. You could take everything. You could avenge_ _ **her**_ _._

She ignored the voice, it had been months since she had heard it and she was beginning to assume it had been her imagination. Perhaps it still was. The happiness of arriving home had faded too quickly and now she felt restless and wanting again. But surely that feeling would fade away too, she had just been away too long.

She was happy here.

 _Wasn't she?_

"Where are they?" she asked, putting such thoughts on the backburner of her mind.

"Fighting in the war," Gran Gran admitted.

"For how long?" Katara chocked, "How long have they been gone?"

Gran Gran gave another heavy sigh.

"Your father comes back every now and then," she said gently, "But I have not seen your brother in nearly nine years."

"Oh," Katara wasn't sure what else to say. Was she angry? _Not really_. Disappointed? _Maybe_. Scared? _A little_.

Gran Gran pursed her wrinkled lips, seeming to read Katara's expression better than she had thought. She gently laid another hand on one of Katara's shoulders and drew her closer.

"After you were taken," her voice seemed to break on the word, "We sent the rest of our waterbenders to the North Pole. Your father led the expedition and Sokka insisted on going with him, your father agreed, albeit reluctantly."

Katara could well imagine it. Her brother would have been around fifteen at the time, too young by their father's standards, but well within his rights as a young warrior to volunteer. Her father could not very well leave Sokka, but agree to take any other fifteen year old boy thirsting to prove himself along.

"After delivering the waterbenders," Gran Gran continued, "They became more and more involved in the war. Your brother especially, as far as I understand."

"What do you mean?" Katara asked curiously, burning to know what had become of her brother, "Where is he? Why doesn't he come home? How do you know he's safe?"

"Katara," Gran Gran's voice was a little pained, "Katara, they've been trying to find a way to break you out of that Fire Nation prison for years and Sokka…he's been helping people…so many people find a home. You'd be proud of him. So proud."

"He should be here…" she trailed off miserably, "So should Dad."

 _That was it._ She was home. She was _finally_ home. She'd gone through the worst years of her life to get here and everything should have gone back to normal. Her family should all be here, she should be able to waterbend freely again and she should be able to feel like…

 _Like she belonged._

Miserably, she was beginning to think such a thing was impossible. Had Hama ruined her for anything that was good and right in this world? It was certainly beginning to look that way. She had dreamt so often of being here, just like she was now, talking to her grandmother, doing something average and normal, like sewing.

She glanced down at her rough attempts and balled the material with her fist in frustration, shutting her eyes tightly.

But even that she had forgotten.

Gran Gran regarded her.

"Things change, Katara," she said gently, "As does everyone. Your father and brother will be home soon and they'll be so, _so_ happy to see you again."

Katara stiffened.

 _Would they?_

She wasn't so sure, but she knew she had to see them and she had to apologize for that day… _especially to Sokka_. She sniffed a little and nodded miserably, not wanting her grandmother to worry. The old matriarch squeezed her shoulder one last time before extracting a small pouch from the confines of her coat.

"I have something that belongs to you now," she said softly, "I've been meaning to give it to you for a while…but I suppose I just never found the right moment."

It was a brown, leather drawstring pouch, old and well used. She loosened the stings and tipped the contents into her craggy hand, closing it in a fist for a moment as though squeezing out a memory.

"You might remember this."

Gran Gran opened her fist. Katara peered down to find a small necklace facing upwards at her. A curving symbol was carved into the stone circle that hung from a piece of dark, blue ribbon.

"I gave this to your father to give to your mother as a wedding present," Gran Gran smiled fondly at the trinket, "In the Northern Water Tribe, when a man gives a woman a necklace like this, he is asking her to marry him. We don't have that tradition here, but it seemed right. Your mother was so proud of you, I know she would have wanted you to have this."

Katara picked up the necklace gingerly. She remembered it. Her mother had hardly ever taken it off and she had always thought it looked pretty. She knew her father had gifted it, but she hadn't known it had originally been her grandmother's.

"Gran Gran," she breathed, for the first time in a long time tears started to well in her eyes, "I don't know what to say…"

"Wear it then," Gran Gran took Katara's hands in her own, "Keep your mother's memory alive in your heart. You are so much like her."

Katara swallowed hard.

 _If only Gran Gran knew…_

She forced a smile and tied the necklace around her neck. It felt terribly heavy.

"Thank you," she managed to choke out.

 **~ATLA~**

 _On board The Rising Sun, present day…_

Katara accepted the flask, taking a steady drink from it, before chocking on the strong, bitter liquid. It was rum. She had never had any before, none of the men in her tribe had drunk it either, but she had heard stories about it being brewed in the east. Her eyes watered a little at the unfamiliar burn of the alcohol travelling down her throat and warming her gut. She took another swig.

The second time was better and she could feel the burn lessen. She wiped her mouth and handed the flask back to the First Mate.

"Thanks," she said softly.

He nodded, settling down beside her.

"You seem drained," he remarked, "Are ye feeling alright?"

"I'll be fine," Katara muttered and smiled at him, "It's just been a while since I've done anything like that."

"But you have done it before, haven't ye?" he asked curiously, "Ye looked like a right pro in there. Was the quickest I've ever seen…not that I've seen it done with water before, but ye know..."

She nodded.

"I lived at the South Pole for most of my life," she said softly, "Hyperthermia and frostbite, that's the most common. Your finger, toes, ears…they turn blue and then black and when they do, they're just dead pieces on your body. We're mostly careful, but there's always someone..."

The First Mate nodded, but remained silent, clearly waiting for her to continue. Once she started talking, Katara found it was difficult to stop.

"When they started attacking us," she looked out onto the ocean, not seeing anything but the fire in her memory, "All the healers were taught emergency medical treatment for the battle field. I'd never treated so many burns in my life."

She gave out a bitter chuckle.

"I never thought the battle field would be my home."

"Did ye fight?" he asked.

Katara pursed her lips and nodded.

"I wasn't supposed to," she whispered dejectedly, "I was only fourteen, they told me to stay with the older healers and help tend the wounded. But I wanted to be out there. My brother and my dad were and I had to protect them. _I should have listened_ …"

"We can only ever do what we think is right," the First Mate laid a hand on her shoulder, "Ye just wanted to help."

"No, I was stupid and too arrogant for my own good," her nails bit into her palm as she clenched her fists angrily, "But they kept coming back. I was lucky the first few times, but the one time I wasn't, everything went _wrong_."

She could feel the tears leaking down her face now, unbidden and unwanted. She didn't know if it was the exhaustion or the pain finally catching up with her, maybe it was even the steady buzz of the rum in her system, but confessing so much to this man - _a veritable stranger!_ – was easier than it had been trying to explain it to Gran Gran. She remembered that day so clearly. She and Sokka had gotten into a huge argument about her fighting and Dad had stodgily agreed, ordering her to stay with Mom. She hadn't listened. She slipped away as soon as the fight started and joined them. Sokka had been so angry when he saw her, but there wasn't anything he could do. Dad was in the front; he didn't even know she was there until it was too late.

Mom had gotten worried and come looking for her, even though she hadn't anyway to defend herself. One of the soldiers cornered her. Katara had noticed, but not in time to get there. No matter how hard she had pushed through the throng of soldiers, she had been too late. Her mother was on the ground. Katara was screaming and her arms were being tugged back harshly behind her back, a blade pressed to her throat.

She still had the small scar from where it had nicked her, now hidden under her mother's necklace.

"My mother died because I was too late," she murmured, caressing the chocker, "I didn't listen and I wasn't where I was supposed to be and _she died_."

"This war has robbed many of those they love," the First Mate put in, "Ye could never have known. Aye, it was foolish to rush in, but itsh no shame to want to fight for yer home. Just like with the young lad, ye were helping others as best ye could."

"If I'd got there earlier, he might still have a leg. If I'd gotten there in time all those years ago, my mother might still be alive. If-" she wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them to her chest and shook her head, "I seem to be good at that, always being too late."

"It wasn't yer fault."

"Maybe not," she conceded, "But it still feels that way."

Neither said anything for a very long time, Katara took another gulp of the rum, wishing she could drown herself in it. She needed sleep and a hot meal. It's what she would have said to anyone else in her condition, but she wasn't up for caring for herself just that moment. The First Mate gave a long sigh.

"All these young folkssh," he gave a dry chuckle, "Trying to take the world on their shoulders without understanding a sshingle thing."

She blinked in surprise, not sure whether to be angry or to laugh. He clasped her shoulder, pulling her to her feet and taking the rum from her.

"Yer still too little to be worrying s'much," he turned her round before she could open her mouth and directed her below deck, "Ye did a good job today, be content with tha'. Now to bed with ye."

 **~ATLA~**

 _The South Pole, six months ago…_

The shrine was only a short distance from the village, not quite near enough to be within sight, but only about an hour walk out. It was a little dangerous to make the trip without a waterbender though as there was a tall, ice walled pass one had to travel through. It was safe as long as you were careful, but loud noises could set off a small avalanche, in which case the presence of a waterbender who could divert the snowy fall was essential. No one had died there in nearly two hundred years, but it was still cautioned.

Katara made her way through the pass now, treading carefully through the small crack that made the path between two walls of sheer ice. Her reflection danced like a warped shadow on the crystal surface. If she looked up, all she could see was the light trying to stream through from far above her.

The narrow pass had been their method of protecting the shrine initially, when the Fire Nation began their attacks. She, as well as a group of other waterbenders had stood right up at the top of those icy peaks and flooded the gap in with as much snow as they could. In the ten years since then, someone had re-hollowed out the path again.

It must have taken weeks.

She was sure Imnek had been the one to do it; he would have been the only person eager enough to return to the shrine and able to do so on his own. As a young girl, she had made the journey many times with her father. Sokka had never been interested, only breaking into intense arguments with Imnek whenever he came along. He had always had a difficult time believing in Spirits.

She marveled at the surreal beauty of the crevice, the high peeks of ice on either side, glittering with diamond sheen in the light of the bright, arctic sun up above. There was no sound to be heard except the crunching of snow beneath her feet and the gentle rhythm of her own breath. Every now and then she would glance behind her, feeling a presence she couldn't see. When she was a child, she used to imagine there were spirits living inside the walls, watching the travelers who passed through. Once, she could have sworn she saw a shadowy shape in the ice that couldn't belong to anyone human.

She pushed such musings away as she approached the end of the path. She stepped away from the shadowed looking glass and out into the white, snowy scape. Just a few feet away she could see the roof of the shrine poking out.

It didn't take long for Katara to find out all about Imnek from her grandmother. When her father and brother had left to fight the Fire Nation, Imnek had gone with them. He had returned to the tribe the last time the men had come home, injured and unable to help any further in the war effort. The injury had been crippling and the next time the Fire Nation patrols had come, they had written him off. She didn't say anything more than that and tried to discourage Katara from going to see him.

" _The man could freeze to death up there and it would be months before we knew," she said disapprovingly, "He doesn't come into the village anymore."_

 _Katara was genuinely surprised._

" _Why not?" she asked, her voice oddly strained._

" _He's not like he used to be," she warned, "It's hard to explain…there's just something not right. Be careful."_

Taking in a lung full of icy air, she practically marched through the snow. The shrine was just as she remembered it as a girl.

A circular building with a high, multi-tiered tiled roof that housed the shrine to the Avatar stood out in the snow like a beacon. To its side, was a smaller, circular building that housed the shaman who tended to the shrine. The two buildings were connected by a straight passage and had been there since the first Water Tribe settlers had landed in the south.

She walked straight to the smaller building, pausing before the animal skin flap that closed the entrance and called softly;

"Imnek? Imnek? Are you there? Its Katara!"

She waited to hear movement, and then jumped when someone wearing a snarling wolf mask poked out at her from the flap. She gasped, taking a step back.

"Imnek?" she inquired, eyebrow raised.

Imnek had been shaman since she was a little girl. The older brother of her father's friend, Bato, he had always been around. He was a bear of a man, taller and broader than most men in the tribe, with his brother's nose and droopy eyes. Gruff and loud and more than a little eccentric, she couldn't imagine the tribe without him.

It had been a relief to find out he hadn't been taken with the rest of the water benders.

The masked man pulled his mask off and stared at her.

She studied the face she hadn't seen in ten years with all the fascination of a wide-eyed child. He was far leaner than she remembered, his skin pale and wrinkled. Bony hands held the mask at his side and she thought she could detect the slightest tremor in them. Grey streaked his scruffy beard and his once thick head of hair was receding and frazzled.

"Katara?" Imnek squinted at her, rubbing his beard thoughtfully, "Well…it's about time. Get in here!"

He lunged over, grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her into the shrine. She gave a small yelp of surprise as she unceremoniously landed in an awkward position on a bearskin pelt laying out on the floor, she felt a sharp burst of pain travelling up her elbow. She twisted round just in time to see Imnek securing the flap and taking off the mask, tossing it carelessly to the ground.

"That was unnecessary!" she complained, sitting up and rubbing her elbow, "Not to mention rude."

He didn't respond, only walked right past her to the fire pit in the centre of the room. He did so with a noticeable limp. Katara rubbed her eyes, adjusting to the dim light cast by the blaze and took a moment to look around. Even in the shadowy lighting, she could make out the basics of the room. It had certainly seen better days. Only a small thing meant to house the resident shaman – and his apprentice or the Avatar, whichever was applicable at the time, it was littered with various piles of junk. Clothes in one corner, wrapped bundles in another and everywhere the carless dispersion of scrolls and dirty laundry. She thought she could see a wrack for drying out meat set up on the far side and Imnek's hunting weapons and tools lying scattered messily beside them. A bedroll was tucked away to the left of the fire pit, messily rolled up to create some means of space. She smiled, familiar with his habitual untidiness and knowing that the shrine itself would be spotless.

"Yes, yes," he said gruffly, not looking at her, "Been expecting you for a while."

Confused, Katara raised an enquiring eyebrow in his direction.

"Uh…you have?" she shifted uncomfortably, "But…Gran Gran said you haven't been around the village lately."

"Eh, what does _Gran Gran_ know about anything?" he waved her off, staring for moment at one of the paintings on the wall. Katara followed his gaze to the likeness of a young man wearing a bearskin over his head. There were other paintings beside his, all depicting some Water Tribe man or woman. At least half a dozen faces lined that one wall.

 _The Avatars._

Something tugged painfully at her heart for a moment; there would be no new faces added to that wall. It was almost sad to see centuries of tradition crumble away in the wake of the Fire Nation's heinous act. The Avatar wouldn't be coming back anymore.

"So, how did you know I was coming?" she questioned.

"Hmm?" he turned to look at her, "Oh that. Never mind, it's not important. We've got work to do."

"Work?" Katara repeated skeptically, unsure of what the older waterbender meant. In truth, she was just relieved to find him here.

"Yes, yes," he said again and started pacing, "Has to be you, no one else."

"What are you talking about?" she tried again.

He stopped abruptly, looking up for a moment and shaking his head tiredly. He was skinnier than she remembered, paler too, but she supposed living like a hermit for years on end would do that to a man. She heard him mutter faintly under his breath, too soft for her to hear, before he whipped his gaze back to her.

"You'll know when you do," he said dismissively, "What's really important, I think, is why you're here?"

He cocked his head to the side, his expression expectant, and his previous erratic behavior gone from his demeanor. Katara decided to cop it up to his prolonged solitude and brushed it away for later.

"I just wanted to see you," she said softly, feeling a little sad, "You and I are the last waterbenders left around here after all. And you haven't been around the rest of the tribe, I was worried."

He blinked several times.

"Worried huh?" he chuckled suddenly, "Well, it's nice to know you haven't changed all that much after everything that's happened."

Not sure how she should take the comment, Katara could feel her cheeks heat with embarrassment and turned away, crossing her arms indignantly.

Imnek gave no other response, other than raising an eyebrow and giving another snort of laughter. He bent down and picked up a long, metal rod, which he proceeded to use to stoke the molten coals of the fire. Katara could see the sparks dancing out of the corner of her eyes and felt the familiar uneasiness in her chest. Irritated, she quickly focused her attention away from the embers and concentrated on breathing normally.

Thankfully, Imnek did not take long. He finished stoking the fire quickly and set the rod back down, then placed a metal pot onto the coals to heat up some water.

"I was going to make stewed sea prunes for supper," he commented casually, "Will you be joining me?"

She thanked him and accepted.

It didn't take him long to get all of the ingredients assembled and Katara helped where she could – which ended with her preparing the whole meal! She felt mildly amused, later on, when she thought about how she had just naturally taken over. It had been years since she had cooked the Southern delicacy, but she seasoned the concoction with a practiced hand and made small talk with Imnek. All the while she could feel herself the recipient of strange looks. He sat back a bit as the food bubbled away and regarded her oddly.

She ignored him when he did that, instead checking the food over and adding a bit of salt for flavouring.

"You could always make it like your mother's," he finally spoke, "Kya's was the best around."

Katara froze, hand on the ladle about to stir the food. She swallowed hard, shaking herself and carrying on.

"Yeah," she agreed, "It was."

Memories of helping her mother cook this very same dish flooded her mind. It was odd how things she hadn't thought about in years suddenly became as clear as if they had happened the day before. She bit down hard on her lower lip. Once again, the raw pain over her mother's death became unbearable. She was beginning to wonder if it was being home again that was opening up such old wounds.

All the while, Imnek seemed to be gauging her reaction. She had to physically force herself to calm down, aware that she was becoming distressed only by a mere memory.

"You have a lot of anger in you," he said sadly.

"I watched my mother being murdered in front of me and then was imprisoned only for being what I am," she hissed, unable to help herself, "I'm entitled to be angry."

"You should let it go," Imnek's eyes were guarded, "You've held it long enough."

It was possibly the worst thing he could have said to her. _Let it go?_ She was responsible, she hadn't been where she was supposed to be and her mother had been slain. How could she ever _let that go_? Not when it felt like her heart was being ripped apart every time she thought about it and not while the burning anger flooded her to life and kept her wary. Not while her mother's murderer was out there. She dropped the ladle she was holding abruptly, a little of the hot fluid splashed onto her hand and burnt her skin. She ignored it.

"I can't," she snapped.

"The Air Nomads used to say that it was important to forgive," he said softly, "Even your enemy. Helps you find peace within yourself."

"Well their peace loving didn't do them any good," Katara bit out bitterly, "They're gone now."

"Most of them," Imnek agreed, "Doesn't mean they were wrong."

She didn't respond.

"I think you've been hanging onto it for ten years," he continued, "It's probably what kept you going, the reason you survived. You rode on it all the way back here, but you're going to need something different to drive you on, or you won't make it."

"I don't need anything else," she said firmly, "I'm home."

He didn't say anything for a long time, but his eyes did rove to the figures painted on the walls again and he gave a long, weary sigh. Fidgeting a little, Katara turned her attention to the sea prunes before speaking again.

"Those are the Avatars," she offered.

"Yes," his voice sounded a little thick and he had to cough, "That one there with the bearskin hood, he was the last one to be painted here. He was from the North Pole, lived about three and half centuries ago."

She turned to look at the face. She had noticed him earlier, the first time she had caught Imnek staring at the wall. He looked young, maybe just a few years older than she was and had a thick, brown beard. Whoever had painted him had him seated cross-legged as though in mediation, but his eyes were open and penetrating. To Katara, they looked sad.

"He was supposed to marry a girl from our tribe," Imnek carried on, pursing his lips a little, "But you know, that's about as much as I've ever heard about him."

She studied the sad eyes of the Avatar and felt a nagging feeling in her gut.

"I used to imagine the Avatar breaking down that prison and freeing us," she admitted softly, not sure why she was sharing such a pointless fantasy, "I believed he would come back someday, but…I guess I finally realized that the Fire Nation had gotten him too."

"Are you so sure?"

"The last Avatar was killed when the Air Temples were taken," she said firmly, "That's why the Fire Nation attacked us. Even if, by some miniscule chance, the cycle hasn't been broken, the Avatar, whoever he or she is, would be a child."

"There is that," he agreed, tilting his head to the side, "But you believe the cycle was broken, don't you?"

She looked round at him now and nodded icily.

"I believe that if there was that kind of hope around, there would be a rumour of it somewhere in the world," she folded her arms, speaking decidedly, "And I have wandered around long enough to know there hasn't been."

"Seen much of the world then?" he asked.

"Enough," she answered curtly.

He looked at the painted walls, an oddly forlorn expression coming onto his face.

"You know, I was supposed to train the Avatar in waterbending," he muttered.

Katara was genuinely surprised.

"You were? You mean the airbender one? You knew who he was?"

Imnek didn't answer; he was still staring at the wall.

"I'd have made him spar against you, I think," he gave a dry chuckle, "That would have whipped him into shape pretty quick. Ah, but I suppose training the Avatar was not meant to be part of _my_ destiny."

He shot her a sardonic grin.

"Funny how things work out," he scratched the back of his head and yawned loudly.

Their conversation died for a time. She noticed Imnek would still glance at the Avatars' faces every now and then. He was different to how she remembered. Imnek had been so much like her brother Sokka, sarcastic and dry in his humour but also quick and clever. She remembered the arguments the two would get into, usually circulating around Sokka's refusal to believe Spirits were responsible for everything.

 _Damn_ , but she missed him.

"When did you escape?" he asked suddenly, stirring Katara from her thoughts.

"About six years ago," she admitted.

"And what have you been doing since then?" Imnek's voice was light, there was no accusation there at all. Katara relaxed slightly.

"Traveling," she said, it was the best word for it, "It took time to get out of the Fire Nation and I ended up somewhere to the far north. I mostly had to walk home…I actually ended up staying with a tribe of waterbenders for a few months."

"In the Earth Kingdom?" Imnek was clearly surprised.

She nodded.

"In a swamp," she explained, "They call themselves the Foggy Swamp tribe. They're…different. I learnt a lot from them."

She started to describe the tribe as she remembered it, the unique attitudes and the differing forms of bending. She even got up to demonstrate, relieved to concentrate on something different. He watched her in fascination, pointing out similarities or differences as he saw them.

"It's a little more…jerky than what we use," he commented.

Katara nodded and described how they used waterbending to manipulate the water inside plants and to propel their boats. Imnek listened in rapt attention.

"Reminds me of old Hama," he said finally, "She did some traveling in her youth, became very resourceful."

Katara stiffened at the name.

"Ah, but I guess you wouldn't remember Hama," Imnek thankfully continued, "She wasn't around the tribe much in those last years."

Katara didn't respond, she didn't trust her voice. Instead, she just nodded her agreement and hoped he wouldn't say anything more about Hama. She dished out the sea prunes into two bowls, handing Imnek one in silence. Her hand only shook a little.

"Thanks," the old waterbender muttered, leaning forward to take a whiff of the stew, "Ah! Now that's a bowl of stewed sea prunes, looks good!"

He basically ploughed into the food, slurping it up like a man at his last meal. Katara had to hide a small grin of amusement as stew dripped down his chin, her good humour restored by his antics.

"You eat like a kid," she scolded him softly.

He shrugged, not responding as he devoured his meal.

For some hours they remained that way, talking about old times and laughing together. Katara could feel herself opening up in a way she hadn't done in years, feeling completely at ease with the older waterbender. She thought of him up here in the shrine, all alone without anyone visiting him and felt saddened.

"Why don't you came back to the tribe?" she asked softly, "You're all on your own out here. Aren't you lonely?"

"And have Kanna scold me from sun up to sun down?" Imnek gave a derisive snort, " _No thank you_."

Katara couldn't stop the amused smile that spread across her face.

"She's not that bad," she retorted lightly.

"You're never around when she's in one of her moods," the older man pouted, "Its no fair! She never says a word to Bato!"

"Maybe you just need more looking after," Katara teased.

He gave a bark of laughter.

"Maybe I do at that, Katara," he said, eyes dancing with mirth, "Maybe I do."

She stayed an hour longer, trying to coax Imnek back to the village. She managed to illicit a promise that he would visit in the next few days, if she agreed to do the same while she was around.

"While I'm around?" she repeated, confused, "What do you mean?"

"I mean until you leave," he said simply.

"I'll be back in a few days," she tried to protest, but Imnek stopped her.

"No, no," he waved her off, "I mean when you leave. Leave the pole again."

She blinked.

"Why do you think I'm going to leave?" she asked curiously.

Imnek shot her a knowing look.

"You look like your feet are starting to itch," he chuckled, "Some of the young monks who visited me got that way after a while."

"The Air Nomads?" she remembered sometimes monks who visited the tribe would stay at the shrine with Imnek.

"They've always been known for their adventurous spirits," he nodded, "You can't keep them down, it's not good for them. You've got one too, have since you were a little girl."

Katara remained silent, her eyes focusing on nothing in particular. She wasn't thinking of anything much, but her heart suddenly started to ache.

"I don't want to leave," she whispered stubbornly.

Imnek let out a little laugh, clearly unbelieving.

"But you will," he said simply.

 **~ATLA~**

 _On board The Rising Sun, present day…_

 _In and out... In and out... In and out..._

Practiced fingers worked with repetitive ease over the blue cloth, stitching with the rough thread as delicately as it would allow. The hole made in her well-worn leggings swiftly closed. She tightened the tension on the thread, making sure she had no gaps in her work. As she pressed the needle to the cloth, she took a breath in and as she pulled it out, so did the air in her lungs follow. The gentle rhythm served to relax her mind from straying into unsettling thoughts as she pushed her concentration into her sewing.

With a weathered ear, she listened for Teo's gentle breathing. It had been a week since she had taken his leg and the boy was recovering astonishingly well. He still drifted in and out of consciousness, the mix of herbs she doused him with for the pain had the added effect of making him drowsy. When he was awake, she tended to his leg, listened to him chatter and made sure he was properly fed.

She heard a sound, looking up from her work to smile as his eyes opened blearily. She set down her sewing to help him into a sitting position and handed him a cup of water. Once she had sent for some food, the two shifted back into familiar conversation.

Teo could never stop talking about all the things he hoped to do. Katara was surprised; she had never had anyone take to such a terrible predicament so well. But Teo just smiled at her a little, his eyes burning with something she was all too familiar with.

Pure determination.

He had been distressed, of course, but for all of two seconds.

"How long till the swelling goes down?" he asked immediately, "How much additional care am I going to need? You think I can get it fit with a prosthetic? Hey! Wouldn't that be cool? I'd be like a peg legged pirate!"

A boyish grin replaced his enquiring tone. He reminded her of Imnek in that moment. _Imnek who was also missing a leg…_

"You know, I bet my dad'll come up with something! He's always messing around with stuff for the soldiers," he seemed pleased with the idea, "So how about it? What do I have to do once I get off this ship?"

Katara found her mouth was bone dry, she had to cough before she answered him.

"Well," she said, unsure of how to deal with this reaction, "You're going to be in pain for a while, I won't lie to you. You'll have to wait for the suture to heal before you try any prosthesis. Also, there was some damage to your torso and hips from when the beam fell; you need to let those heal properly too. After that, its going to be about building up your strength and exercising. You're going to be in bed for a while, so its important that when you're healed you start exercising your legs – "

"Leg and stump," the boy put in, trying to be helpful.

"Teo."

"Okay, okay," he laughed, shrugging a little, "Carry on."

"As I was saying," she brushed the hair out of her face, "You'll need to exercise. Also, you're going to need to build up other muscles, the way you move is going to be completely different now and your body will need to learn to adjust to that. If you do have some kind of prosthetic fixed, it will be painful to walk with for a while and you'll need to ensure you wear some kind of layering with it to cushion your leg –"

"Stump," he supplied quickly.

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes," she licked her lips worriedly, "When we dock, you will be taken to another healer. Make sure they explain the exercises you will need to perform. Will your father be able to meet you at the port?"

Teo nodded.

"I'll get in contact with him when I arrive," he assured her, "I was taking some leave to see him anyway. It's been five years since the last time we met."

"Five years?" Katara exclaimed.

"Yeah," Teo scratched his head sheepishly, "He and I didn't exactly see eye to eye on the war. But things are okay now! We've been writing and…ah jeez, he's going to have a fit when he sees me. He always told me a ship was no place for me. Guess he was right."

He was smiling, but his eyes were sad. Katara reached over to squeeze his hand, just as the tears started to fall.

Eventually, he calmed down, wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked at Katara and gave a watery chuckle.

"Not very manly of me, huh?" he joked, "Crying in front of the pretty healer. Some rough, tough man of the sea I am!"

Katara resisted a snort.

"I don't know," she said, "I've seen men bigger than you crumble after going through less. You're a stronger man than you think."

"Thanks Katara," Teo said with a sniff, "Thanks for everything."

Her heart ached at that brave face. He seemed to read her though, for his expression lightened suddenly.

"Besides, walking's overrated," he looked up to the ceiling of the ship, "Now, if I could _fly_ , wouldn't that be something?"

Katara nodded despite herself, looking at Teo. His brown eyes were staring up wistfully and there was a flash of determination in him. She suppressed a frown. She was glad, in a way, that he was unwilling to let what happened define his life. But she wondered – she worried – if dreams of flying weren't enough to pull him through.

It had been many years since she had seen a man fly.

Her mind traveled to that destroyed race, the Air Nomads. They'd come to her mind often in the last few months. Not just because Imnek had compared her to them, but because of what their disappearance _meant_ to the world. No longer would children run, waving at a flying bison soaring above their homes, no longer would the familiar sight of a bald man doing tricks and dancing in a town square be there, and no longer would anyone see someone streaking through the air on a glider.

Even after the Avatar had been declared dead, Fire Lord Sozin had kept at the Air Nomads, determined to exterminate them, even as his attention quickly turned on the Water Tribes. There was still a kill on sight order in place.

"Yes," she said finally, "It certainly would be."

He cocked a grin at her, eyes bright.

Katara thought again about what Imnek had said. _An adventurous spirit_. In that moment, with that gleam in his eye, she thought it fit Teo much better than it did her. It gave her hope.

"So where are you headed?" Teo asked quietly, fighting back a yawn, "Going north?"

Katara didn't answer immediately.

"I'm meeting my brother," she said finally, not dissuading him from his assumption she was headed to the North Pole. Where else would a waterbender go, after all? She liked Teo, but trust was a commodity too rare these days for her to bandy out.

He nodded, his head starting to droop as the herbs took effect again.

"A brother, huh?" he said sleepily, "That must have been fun growing up."

"It was," Katara said soothingly, already tucking him in.

"Hmm," was the last sound he uttered before drifting back to sleep. Katara let a small chuckle leave her lips and returned to her sewing.

 **~ATLA~**

 _The South Pole, six months ago…_

Katara returned to the shrine again a few days later, but this time something was troubling her, making her all but run from the tribe.

Miri had confronted her the day before and revealed something startling.

Her son, little Akiak, was a Waterbender.

And she wanted Katara to teach him.

Katara had panicked. The idea of taking on a student, even one as young as Akiak, was terrifying to her. What did she know of teaching? And more than that, she certainly wasn't good enough to try. Not after Hama. No, she wasn't a teacher. She couldn't be one.

She told Miri she would think about it and then had run to Imnek at the first opportunity. There was more than one waterbender left, after all and he would be a much better fit.

He laughed in her face.

"Me?" he said incredulously, "I don't teach _babies_. He can come to me once his balls have dropped."

Katara's lips pulled into a thin line at the vulgar statement.

"Imnek," she started, trying to reason.

"You won't change my mind, Katara," he said, sitting back with his arms crossed, "Besides, I already told Miri no. Its no use stirring up things that have already been decided."

Katara glared at him.

"It'll keep you busy," she argued, "You can't just sit here on your own, doing nothing!"

"I'm not doing _nothing_ ," he said stubbornly, "I have important shaman things to be getting on with."

Katara rolled her eyes.

"Like what?" she said, not believing him.

"There's something wrong at the pole," Imnek said, shrugging as though that answered everything, "I can feel it, like the energy there has shifted. The lights don't shine as bright as they used to and the snow storms never used to touch that place."

Something wrong at the South Pole, Katara blinked worriedly. It was the Southern Tribe's most spiritual place.

"Is that bad?"

"Could be," he closed his eyes, "Probably not in my lifetime or yours, but yes, it could be a problem someday."

"Can't someone fix it?" she asked.

Imnek shook his head.

"Not by me," he folded his arms, "That's Avatar work."

The conversation being brought round to the need for the Avatar again annoyed Katara. She was surprised somewhat at the amount of ire that rose in her with the mere mention. Hastily, she quashed it down, deciding to sort through that particular emotion when she was on her own.

"If its Avatar work," she said testily, "Then what are you supposed to do about it?"

"Watch it," the shaman shrugged.

"Imnek!"

He squared his jaw stubbornly.

"You can give me all the Kanna glares you want," he told her bluntly, "But the fact is, Miri came to _you_. It's not my responsibility. So teach him, don't teach him. That's really your choice. I won't and that's that. My shaman intuition tells me I need to watch the pole, so that's what I'm doing."

Katara gave a great sigh of exasperation. _Stubborn, stubborn man!_ It was no wonder Gran-Gran had such trouble with him.

"So what does your shaman intuition tell you about me?" she asked, defeated.

Imnek smiled sadly.

"That you're not done yet," he said softly, "You still have a long journey ahead, Katara and it's going to take everything you have to get through it."

"Still as cryptic as ever," she was irritated now, "I told you, I'm home."

"Then teach the boy," Imnek waved his hand at her dismissively, "Root yourself back down here, maybe you'll start feeling like you belong."

She stilled at his statement, eyes searching his for answers she didn't want to hear. She set aside the problem that was Miri and her son, instead trying to turn the conversation.

"What happened to your leg?" she asked instead, remembering his limp.

She knew from her grandmother that Imnek had left with the rest of the warriors to fight in the war initially. He had been sent back four years ago due to injury, but had failed to mention the extent. Now katara was curious to know, just what had happened to her old friend.

He raised an eyebrow. Slowly, he took off his boot and rolled his pants up from his leg.

Katara gasped.

"Your leg!" she exclaimed, "It's fake!"

All she saw was a thing bar of metal where his leg was supposed to be. It was smooth, with bolts and gears attached at everything this way and that. It was unlike any kind of prosthetic she had ever seen before.

"Metal," he said gruffly, tapping the contraption with his knuckles, "A friend of Sokka's made it for me a couple of years ago. Works all right in the snow and fits into this special boot so I can walk. Hah, I'm a real pirate sort now."  
"How-"

"Fire Nation soldier caught me with his sword in the calf," Imnek explained, "We were in hiding after that and I caught an infection. There was nothing they could do, so off it came."

Katara just stared. She had been present to many an amputation, even seen Earth Kingdom healers with special tools for the removal of limbs. They looked like torture devices, but allowed the practiced physician to do his work in seconds. Now, all she could envision was Imnek screaming on the battlefield while a harried healer had to cut through flesh and bone.

He took off the leg to reveal his stump. It was pink and scarred, but cleanly cut and sewn.

"Earth Kingdom physician had to take it off," he explained, confirming her thoughts, "Hurt like hell."

"Here," she was already gathering water into her hand, "Let me see."

She was about to lay the glowing liquid onto the old wound when Imnek stopped her, laying his hand over her own and smiling gently.

"It's okay," he said softly, "Even you can't heal scars, Katara. The pains only phantom now."

She nodded dejectedly, fighting back tears for her old friend.

"Don't worry," his voice was cheery, "Everything fades with time."

It sounded so similar to what Gran Gran had told her that Katara let out a bitter laugh, her eyes welling up.

"You were with Dad and Sokka?" she asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, "Your brother's a brave young man. Done us proud plenty."

"He fought!?" she exclaimed, worry filling her.

"Some," Imnek admitted, "But your Dad tried to keep him out of most of it. Then he got given his mission and –"

He cut off suddenly, lips pressing together tightly.

"And?" Katara pressed.

He opened his mouth and was disturbed by a squeaking sound.

"Ah!" he said instead, "I haven't introduced you to my pets!"

He made a clicking sound with his tongue, reminding Katara of his infamous talent for changing the subject. She watched in fascination as a pair of artic hamsters made their way out from under a pile of dirty laundry. She rolled her eyes. She wouldn't be surprised if the entire hamster population of the South Pole was managing to keep warm under the amount of mess he made.

The small, furry white rodents scampered up Imnek's arm, taking residence in his beard. He laughed good-naturedly.

"Easy Sokka!" he cried, "That tickles!"

He picked up the larger one from his hair, giving it a stroke.

"You named the hamster…Sokka?" Katara tried to keep herself from giggling.

"What?" Imnek shrugged in a nonchalant manner, trying to look completely innocent, "So maybe I miss arguing with the unbelieving, close minded, insufferable little whelp. He was always good for a laugh."

"Sokka does have a rather tenuously relationship with belief," she shook her head.

He grinned in agreement and pointed to the smaller hamster, now trying to make itself a nest in his beard.

"This one's the new guy," he explained, "Likes to jabber on, silly thing. Maybe I should name him Aang."

He looked at her expectedly and Katara wasn't sure why.

"It's a good name," she offered weakly.

He sighed, looking oddly disappointed.

She tried to turn the conversation back to her brother, but Imnek remained silent on the matter. Instead, he distracted himself with the hamsters, letting them scurry about his person. Katara was about to leave, when something literally flew into the room.

A messenger hawk, like the kind the Fire Nation used, soared through the door flap and came to land on an outstretched pole Imnek had been using to hang laundry. Imnek frowned, holding out his hand so the bird would fly to him. It did so, eyeing the hamsters hungrily, but remaining passive otherwise.

Imnek took a message from its foot and let it fly back to its perch again. He broke open a seal and started to read quickly. He frowned, setting the letter down and reattaching his prosthetic again.

"You get letters?" she queried, looking at the messenger hawk.

He nodded.

"From some…old friends," he paused, "Speaking of which…"

He practically dove into the pile of collected junk in one of the corners, returning a few minutes later with something grasped triumphantly in his huge fist. He eagerly presented the item to her, opening his hand slowly.

Katara's frown deepened considerably as she deftly picked up the tiny, carved Pai Sho piece.

"The White Lotus tile?" she said, holding it up.

"You might need it one of these days," he said with a knowing grin, "Keep it on you when you leave."

"I'm not leaving," she deadpanned, but still held the Pai Sho tile firmly between her fingertips.

He shrugged, clearly not believing her.

"Then keep it for good luck," he waved a hand, "It's yours now."

She looked at him for a long time, wanting to ask about the message. There were a lot of things she wanted to ask him, but he didn't seem in the sharing mood all of a sudden. It wasn't fair, all this secrecy. The war had taken too much of a toll on trust.

"The world's changed," she whispered before she could stop herself.

"The world is always changing," he murmured back, "This time the change was just a little more…violent than usual. But change is part of life, as waterbenders we understand that better than most."

"You never cross the same river twice," Katara quoted miserably, shaking her head, "A part of me wishes things could just stay the same."

"That's very human," Imnek chuckled.

She felt comforted by the assessment, even as that Voice in the back of her mind began to jeer at her, tugging at her self-doubt.

She brushed it away, as she did a lot of things. That voice that edged at her, fed on her insecurities and her doubts, made her feel small and withered inside…

It sounded just like Hama's.

She decided it was time to leave.

As Katara walked out, a small flash of light caught Imnek's eye. He turned his head towards the painting on the wall. Avatar Kuruk's eyes glowed for a moment, before diming completely.

"Well its not my fault she's so stubborn," the old waterbender commented gruffly.

The eyes stayed dark, un-answering.

Imnek snorted.

"She's not the only one."

 **~ATLA~**

 _Earth Kingdom, present day…_

A week later, they had finally made it to port. _The Rising Sun_ made it on time despite the delay brought by the storm. Everyone was more than a little relieved that the journey was over. With the storm, the injuries and the fever that had swept the ship, the captain was already talking about bringing a holy man on board to cleanse the bad luck from the vessel.

Katara picked up her belongings, said goodbye to the crew, hugged the First Mate and checked on Teo one last time. He was sitting up in bed when she came in, waiting for the stretcher-bearers to take him into town.

"So this is it," he said, pouting a little, "I'll miss having a pretty waterbender to tend to me."

She shot him a playful grin, coming over to kiss his cheek.

"Heal up," she told him, "I don't want to hear you've set yourself back because you were too stubborn to rest."

"I know," his cheeks were red from her kiss and he was smiling, "Safe trip, Katara."

"You too," she said.

Just as she was about to leave, she heard him call out;

"Thanks for saving my life!"

She stopped, hand traveling to her heart. She felt a little lighter, oddly enough.

It was sunny autumn day when she stepped onto the deck, moving to the plank that led off the ship. The docks were a teeming mess of people. Fishermen were tugging in hauls, merchant vessels were unloading goods and Fire Nation soldiers moved about on patrol.

She shouldered her pack.

"I can do this," she muttered to herself.

And walked off _The Rising Sun_.


	4. A Small Friend

"You, my friend, are just a few plums short of a fruit pie."

-Momo, _Nightmares and Daydreams_

 **A Small Friend**

 _Autumn, 9AG…_

The harbor town was filled with people. Katara breathed in the smell of the sea air wafting off the docks, mixed in with the stench of fish, unwashed bodies and musty wood smoke. Her nose crinkled at the sour stench, she had forgotten her dislike of these swarming places. She swept her pack over her left shoulder and laid a hand on her filled water skin, a habit she had picked up whenever entering an overly crowded area. She hadn't seen so many people in months and her senses were immediately alert. She had said her goodbyes to those on board, even receiving a hug from Shin.

She asked directions from a fruit seller and soon found herself navigating the bustling streets to _The Jade Flower_ teahouse on the west side of the town. The Fire Nation's emblem hung arrogantly across nearly every building she passed. Soldiers patrolled in units of four or six and people scurried away cautiously wherever they went. It had been a while since she had been in an occupied area. Angry and more than a little scared, she deftly avoided the gazes of passing soldiers and kept her cloak clutched tightly over her Water Tribe clothing. The last thing she needed was some nosy busy body wondering if he might have found a waterbender to make him some coin.

The street she found the teahouse in was somewhat quieter than the others and far cleaner too. Paved with spotless, grey stone, the path led her right up to the green and gold sign of the teahouse. An intricate mosaic of a white lily surrounded by flourishing green leaves marked the floor of the entrance. The delicious, sweet scent of herbs and spices met her nose, calming and rejuvenating her senses all at once.

It was cool and peaceful inside. There was a fountain right in the centre of the room, trickling gently into a koi filled pool built right into the tiled floor. Flowers and low, carved wooden tables spread across the space in an intricate, but spacious order and the sweet, low sound of a flute sang from one of the corners.

"Welcome," a soft voice chimed pleasantly, drawing Katara's attention away from the décor, "Can I show you to a table?"

A short, plump man with slick, greying hair and a bright green apron smiled at her. She nodded, thanking him.

He seated her near a small window in the back; it looked out onto a garden and let in a cool breeze. She took a deep breath and tried to relax a bit. She ordered a cup of tea following the server's suggestion. A cursory glance around the room did not reveal any immediate threats and so she took the opportunity to allow her mind to wonder and the muscles in her shoulders to loosen.

Her tea finally served, she took in some time to people watch. It was a habit developed from years of hiding within Fire Nation borders and she thought she had become quite good at it. It had started from necessity and then became a way of diverting her attention from worrisome matters. She employed the latter function now.

The middle-aged woman lightly tapping her teacup with one slender finger, for instance, sat near the front of the teashop, her table directly facing the door. Every now and then her foot would tap in rhythm to her hand and she would cast an anxious look at the doorway. She wore traveling clothes, worn and weathered fairly recently, Katara thought, as mud still caked the heels of her boots and the bottom of her long, forest green cloak. There was no way to know for certain of course, but Katara entertained the thought that she was a mother who had traveled far to meet her long estranged son at the port. Or perhaps an old lover long gone to war was now returning and she feared both the meeting and the slew of Fire Nation soldiers occupying the area. There was certainly something both tragic and filled with longing in her crinkled eyes.

The sweet fantasy of family reuniting stirred something painful in Katara's heart and she moved her gaze on to the next person.

Two men played Pai Sho in the corner. They're steaming tea cups lay forgotten as they bent in contrived meditation over the board. The younger of the two frowned in unmasked frustration, his hand hesitatingly hovering over several pieces, before he eventually made his move. His opponent, a man considerably older, smiled indulgently at the other and pressed his selected Pai Sho piece forward with practiced ease, causing the younger to give a groan of defeat and both men to laugh. The simple affection passing between the two was what struck Katara the most and she pictured them as father and son.

Her perceptions shifted though, when she took note for the first time the clothing each was wearing. The old man's dark green tunic and stout, brown boots marked him for the Earth Kingdom. The young man in his finely trimmed red however, was something entirely different. His dark hair fashioned into a topknot, the popular style for Fire Nation men and his military standard cloak singled out his origin.

She thought that perhaps one was playing a dangerous game of dress up, but the well-worked, bony fingers of the old man and his sun hardened skin suggested years of toil out doors. He painted a different picture to the well groomed, Fire Nation man who probably hadn't done a day's honest labour in his life.

Katara had been through both the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation long enough to know the kinds of people and this combination baffled her. She stared for several more minutes, before shaking her head and moving on, all interpretations of the scene lost on her. Her gaze instead, settled on an old couple with their fingers entwined over the tabletop and spent the remainder of the time imagining their story.

The diversion served its purpose and she found herself easing in to the general serenity of the teahouse. She took a sip of her tea, enjoying the refreshing taste and spent the time ridding the images of Teo's bleeding stump and his hopeful grin from her mind. Maybe the First Mate was right, maybe it was just her.

 _You could have done better. You could have saved his leg, if you were better._

The Voice was back to choke at her, picking at her worries and fears until they started to bleed out. She shook it from her, gritting her teeth in determination.

 _Stop it_ , she thought furiously, _Self-defamation helps no one, least of all you_.

"Another tea, miss?"

Startled by the server's question, Katara looked up and then at her cup. She hadn't even realized she was finished. She looked at the server and pushed a smile onto her face. It was time.

"Yes please," she said, trying to keep the awkwardness from her voice, "Is it an old recipe?"

Something passed over the man's face and his eyes glinted; yet his expression never changed as he reached over and took her empty cup.

"Ancient and refined," he offered pleasantly, "It is a matured brew."

"I seek only to be educated," she responded, surprisingly easily, "The old ways are rare."

"Yes, they are," he revealed nothing, but she thought she could see a look of understanding cross his face, "I'll bring you another cup. We will be closing soon, please stay where you are."

Relieved her words seemed to have worked, she nodded. He returned within minutes, another cup of tea prepared. As she drank, the customers began to leave the shop. The afternoon had been late on her arrival and the sun now hung low in the sky. If she had to guess, she would say that this town was under curfew. It was a common enough practice in occupied towns.

When the last person exited – the woman in the traveling cloak – the server closed the thick wooden doors, bolting them from the inside. Unsure of what to do, Katara waited as he went about cleaning tabletops and sweeping floors.

"Um," she started, "Do you need a hand?"

He looked up and smiled at her, shaking his head.

"Finish your tea, we will talk soon," he said dismissively.

Confused, Katara returned to her rapidly cooling cup and waited.

The air began to cool as it darkened and Katara realized for the first time that there was someone else in the teahouse. She hadn't noticed him before because he had been seated in a corner out of her line of sight. He was a portly man, with a grey beard and receding hairline. He was sipping a cup of tea happily, his expression one of absolute contentment. He was also Fire Nation.

Katara gripped her cup so hard, she was sure it would crack.

 _Why was he still here?_ Her eyes darted to the server, suspicion filling her. _Was he working for the Fire Nation? Was this all a trap?_

She set down her teacup as calmly as she could and rested one hand on her water skin. She smoothed open the stopper and kept her hand poised in position to use the liquid inside. It was a dangerous gamble, using the water here of all places, but she wouldn't have much choice if this went south. She waited, keeping the Fire Nation man within her line of vision.

The Fire Nation man took a long drink from his cup, drew back with a sigh of contentment and smacked his lips appreciatively.

"Ping!" he exclaimed, "This is a fine brew! You must share the recipe!"

The server, Ping, leaned forward, a pleased smile on his lined face.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, "I have been working on this brew for sometime now, I knew it wouldn't be ready unless you had tested it yourself. You were my teacher, after all."

"It is exquisite!" the man laughed, laying a hand on his belly, "You have outdone yourself. I wish my nephew was so gifted, he can still only make hot leaf juice!"

Ping and the Fire Nation man laughed.

Katara listened to the exchange, trying to concentrate on her own cup of tea and not on the Fire Nation man who was acting so familiarly with this member of the White Lotus who was meant to be helping her. All the while, she kept one hand on her water skin.

"And who is this, lovely young lady?" the man said, startling Katara, "A guest?"

"She is for Sanctuary," Ping revealed and Katara's eyes widened in fear, reading her expression, Ping hastened to add, "Do not fear child, my friend is one of our order."

"He's Fire Nation," she found herself retorting, looking away.

"Ah," the man said, a look of understanding crossing his face, "You caught me then. Do not fear, miss, I will not do anything; I am only here for a cup of tea. Though perhaps, if you are going to Sanctuary, you might deliver something to Sokka?"

Katara's head snapped round.

"You know my brother?" she found herself blurting out.

The man's eyes widened in surprise and then his face cracked into a full smile.

"You are the little sister!" he looked absolutely delighted, "I had wondered…but never mind then, it is good you are going to see him."

Struck by the kindness in his voice, Katara couldn't say anything. She nodded a little, not trusting herself to speak.

"Here," the man drew something from under his cloak, "I was going to send a messenger hawk, but seeing as you're going there anyway…"

Katara hesitantly got to her feet and walked over to the man's table. He had laid a leather bound scroll there for her to take. He smiled up pleasantly as she reached over to grasp it in one hand. If he noticed she still had her hand on the water skin beside her, he gave no indication of the fact.

Ping smiled placidly at the exchange and then dashed off to get more tea.

"Sit! Sit!" he insisted to Katara, "I'll be back with a fresh pot for the three of us in no time. And some sweet cakes I think, yes!"

He didn't give her a chance to protest, bustling her into a seat opposite the stranger before he scurried off. For a long time, the two just stared at each other. Katara with suspicion. The man with a sort of fond curiosity.

"Did you have a pleasant journey from the South Pole?" he enquired, "Not too eventful, I hope."

"We got caught up in a storm," she answered stiffly, "Otherwise, it was smooth."

"Good, good," he nodded pleasantly, "Your brother will be quite relieved to see you again, I imagine. You must be impatient to be with him."

She nodded, and then asked a question that had been bugging her, "Why do you call it Sanctuary?"

"Sanctuary, Haven, some call it Home," his eyes sparkled, "When you get there, you will understand, I think."

She frowned, thoughtful, and decided to press her luck.

"You're Fire Nation," she said, "Why-?"

She didn't finish. Too many questions would follow, but she knew he understood.

The older man's gaze softened and he smoothed his beard, as though pondering her question.

"That too you will come to understand," he said cryptically, taking another sip of tea just as Ping returned with a tray laden in goods. It was at the hot, sweet smell of the cakes that Katara's stomach growled. She flushed in embarrassment, not realizing how hungry she was.

Surprisingly, her tension faded as the impromptu tea party commenced. The Fire Nation man was…pleasant. He had an affable, down to earth quality about him and took everything with good humour.

"Ah, but I must be going," he intoned, almost regretfully as night descended upon them, "The lieutenant will scold me again."

Ping snorted.

"You lead that girl on a merry chase," he teased, "I'm surprised she hasn't turned you to cinders yet."

"Oh, I'm sure she's thought about it," the Fire Nation man chuckled good-naturedly.

He left after that and it was then Katara realized she had never asked his name. Ping smiled at her, amused.

"That was Iroh," he explained, "A Grandmaster of our order."

Katara was about to nod her understanding, when the name _Iroh_ clicked.

"Not _General_ Iroh?" she asked incredulously, " _The Dragon of the West_?"

She had spent enough time in the Fire Nation to know _that_ name.

Ping nodded.

Katara gave a hysterical sort of laugh that sounded like something between chocking and a hiccup.

She had just had afternoon tea with the Fire Nation's _Crown Prince!_

 **~ATLA~**

 _The South Pole, six months ago…_

She was in sight of the village when it happened. Something hard and cold collided into the back of her head. She was so surprised that she lost her balance and veered face first towards the ground. She brought her arms out to brace for the impact, her hands stung as they received the sudden force of her own weight. She took a breath to steady herself and got up again, this time drawing a stream of water up in defense as she turned around to face her attacker. The back of her head ached and she was sure a snowball had hit her with a rock in it.

Another came soaring through the air towards her, but this time she was prepared. She used the water as a shield. Out of the corner of her eye, she could detect movement. Immediately, she shot out a jet, turning it to ice as it collided with the target. She heard a strangled shout, followed by others.

So there was more than one.

Someone ran out at her, a club rose above his head and a war cry on his lips. She snapped in his direction, sending yet another stream of water from the snow at her feet. This time though, she used the water to freeze him in place, trapping his entire body in ice. Only his head remained free.

The third and last attacker didn't bother coming at her. He ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction, followed closely by the first she had knocked down. With a satisfied smirk, Katara straightened up, watching them go.

"Let me out!"

 _Which left one to deal with._

"You know," she drawled, stepping towards him, "Attacking a waterbender with all this snow around was a really, _really_ stupid idea."

He didn't say anything, but he looked down, his teeth gritted in anger. He was young, probably somewhere in his mid-teens and close to Katara's height. His dark mob of hair was short and scruffy and he wore warrior's garb that was clearly too big for him. His face was covered in war paint, but there was something familiar about his deep-set eyes and broad mouth.

"What's the matter?" she asked lightly, "All out of bravado now you're caught?"

"Shut up," he growled.

 _Brat._

"You going to tell me why you did it?" she asked, trying to keep her cool, "Cause I don't appreciate being ambushed by _little boys!"_

"You don't fight fair!" he protested.

"Please! It was hardly a fight, and hey! You're one to talk! _Three against one_? Where's your honour?"

He clearly didn't have a response for that.

"So, are we going to stand here all day?" she lifted an eyebrow mockingly, "Cause I kind of like the cold. You, however, might not appreciate being frozen there for much longer."

It wasn't a comfortable place to be.

"Just let me out and go back to the Fire Nation!" he yelled, "You old hag!"

At this point, Katara's temper finally popped. She shot him her best glare, oddly satisfied when the boy flinched.

"Old _hag_!?" she repeated, poking his nose with her finger, "Watch who you're calling names, shrimp. You're not in a position to tick me off!"

"I'm not scared of you!" he declared boldly, "You're so ugly that if you threw a boomerang it wouldn't come back!"

"Immature brat!"

"Stupid hippo woman!"

"Little jerk!"

"Traitor!"

Katara gave a start at the last word, blinking rapidly, her anger melting and a cold feeling setting in. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she moved closer to the boy's face, staring him eye to eye.

"Listen here, you twerp!" she ground out, "You don't know what I went through to get back here, I've lost just as much to the Fire Nation as anyone and I will not stand around and be talked down to! Especially not by a little boy whose clothes don't even fit him. You want to dress like a warrior, you better be prepared to act like one and attacking me based on your own arrogant little assumptions is nothing more than insulting! I suggest you grow up and think about your actions. The Fire Nation _took_ my mother, they _took_ my freedom and they _took_ me away from the people I love most. If you think for one moment I'd _give_ them my loyalty after that, you have more than a touch of the Mid-Sun _madness_!"

She finished her rant, a little out of breath and already running out of steam. Perhaps it was a little harsh. A part of her regretted letting her temper get the better of her and saying so much…especially at the bewildered look the boy was shooting her. She sighed, and wiped the war paint off his face with her sleeve, much to his disgruntlement. She didn't care though. She couldn't look at that painted face and not think of her father and brother.

But she was still angry. Never in a million years had she imagined her own tribesmen would consider her a threat. She'd become accustomed to the resentful looks some of them sent her, but for children to do this…she could only wonder what their parents talked about when her back was turned. Did people really think that the only reason she escaped was because she had turned tails and betrayed them to the Fire Nation?

It was the only inference she could gather from the boy's accusation and command that she 'go back to the Fire Nation'. She felt hurt and alone all of a sudden. She dropped her arm, her sleeve stained with the paint, now a greyish blur on the material.

"Katara! Master Katara!" she heard shouts in the distance and turned to see a small group of people approaching her and the boy. She squinted a little against the whiteness of the snow, but recognized Gran Gran, a few of the elders and Malina (who had been a friend of her mother's) approaching quickly. With an even heavier sigh than before, Katara crossed her arms, waiting for the party to arrive.

When they did, Malina immediately took one look at the boy and cried;

"Mauja!"

Katara gave a start.

She remembered Mauja. He had been four years old the last time she had seen him. He had been a tiny child, crying over the slightest things and forever following his father around. She turned to stare at her attacker, still frozen in the ice.

"Mauja?" she murmured, "You're Nilak's son?"

That was why his face seemed familiar. It was exactly like Nilak's with the same, deep-set brown eyes and wide mouth, always seeming ready to smile. Now though, that mouth was caught in a grimace as his mother fussed over him. He had his father's jawline as well and Katara was sure that when he lost his puppy fat around the face, the boy would morph into the spitting image of his dad. He was tall too. He must only be fourteen now, but he was at a height with Katara. Nilak had been tall. Malina was a stouter woman. Her eyes were lined and she had become paler and thinner than what Katara remembered, but she had always had a smile and loved company. She had been one of the first people to greet her on her return, but Katara had heard little of Mauja.

Now she knew why.

Nilak had been taken the day she was. He had been a very reliable man, that's how her dad had always described him. You could trust Nilak with anything. He had also been the cheekiest man in the village and used to tease her when she was little. She had respected him both as a waterbender and as a warrior of the tribe. Mauja, if she remembered rightly, had been a daddy's boy from the day he was born.

"What happened here?" one of the elders spoke, "We've had two of the lads running back, yammering like madmen!"

"I was ambushed by some kids," Katara spoke nonchalantly, "They were just being stupid. No harm done-"

"Katara, you're bleeding!" Gran Gran spoke, reaching for Katara's head.

Surprised, she gingerly felt the back of her head where the snowball had hit her. She felt something warm and sticky marring her hair. Drawing her hand back, she saw blood. The gash couldn't be that deep, but head wounds had a tendency to bleed more. Sighing, she called some water into her hand, applying the healing glow and laid it over the wound.

"It's fine," she said, as the healing sensation started, "Like I said, no harm done."

She glanced at Mauja, if he was surprised at her defending him, he didn't show it. He was looking anywhere but at her. Quite the feat, considering he couldn't move his head. One of the elders, a man she recognized from her childhood, shook his head and turned an intense stare on Mauja.

"It's not fine," he said, "Mauja and his friends must be punished for their actions."

"I agree," said the elder beside him, turning to Katara, "Master Katara, as the victim in this, do you have any suggestions as to how these boys should be dealt with?"

She froze, unsure of how to respond. It was strange, even though she had become a master waterbender at fourteen, she had never been dealt the respect these men now showed her. It was odd to think she now held the same status as her old teachers.

She glanced at Mauja. She didn't really want him to be punished, she just wanted to be left alone, but she also had a responsibility to offer her opinion to the tribe. She could feel the encumbrance of the elders' stares on her and knew they would be weighing her decision, judging her for her worth. She wasn't a little girl anymore.

"I need some help in the healing huts," she decided, "Let one of them come and assist me…he might learn something. As for the others…perhaps they can be assigned to cleaning and restoring the shrine."

She spoke as confidently as she knew how, but a shadow of uncertainty hung in her mind. It cleared though when Gran Gran cast her an approving smile.

"That sounds reasonable," she put in, shooting a meaningful look at the other elders who immediately nodded in agreement (this was _Kanna_ after all), "Mauja can assist in the healing huts and the other two can be sent to Imnek. Spirits know the man needs someone to boss around."

A few more points were made, but otherwise the discussion was finished and the elders left the three women alone with Mauja. Katara raised a hand, about to free him from his icy prison, when Malina stopped her. She turned to her son, her expression infinitely sad.

"Why would you do this?" his mother whispered, shaking her head, "Katara is our friend."

"No she's not!" the boy screamed angrily, struggling against the ice, "Dad was way stronger than her! He was the strongest waterbender in the whole tribe! There's no way she could have escaped and he didn't! No way! She had to have done something to him, she had to!"

There were tears coming down his face now. Anger and grief poured out of him. Katara bit down on her lower lip and moved closer to him. She lifted her hand and laid it on his head. He stopped struggling and looked up at her wide-eyed. She gave him a sympathetic look and let the ice melt off of him. He seemed too shocked by her actions to notice.

"You're right," she said softly, "He was much stronger than me."

She paused, debating on what to say. Her silence had caused this. There were so many people here who needed closure, who needed to know what happened to their loved ones and she had just ignored it for her own selfish reasons. She let her hand drop and looked into his eyes. She was face to face with Mauja. He was trying very hard to glare at her, but his lower lip was quivering. She looked at his mother for a second; Malina was watching the exchange anxiously. Gran Gran was there too; a strange look on her face, but Katara ignored it.

"When-when they took us," Katara's voice started to tremble and she had to clear her throat, "When they took us, Nilak told us to keep fighting. Every day, he said that if we stuck together and didn't give up then we'd be okay."

She licked her lips, trying to draw her courage again.

"Your dad was a really brave man," she continued, her voice breaking a little, "He never let them or any of us see if he was hurt or scared. Everyday, he'd wake up and he'd take a role call and if we didn't shout back, he'd keep calling our names until we did. It didn't matter how many times they told him to stop, every day he made sure we were all together."

She heard Malina start to sob and felt the woman grab her arm, holding it tightly. Mauja was just staring at her, fighting back his own tears. Katara wasn't so lucky and could feel them running down her cheeks as she spoke.

"He used to provoke the guards," she carried on, "Anytime they tried to hurt one of us, he'd turn their attention to him. I don't know how many times…"

She couldn't continue.

"What?" Mauja asked, "What did they do?"

The anger was back, but this time it wasn't directed at Katara.

"It doesn't matter," she whispered, "But they could be cruel and your dad…he'd take a lot of it onto himself, just to protect the rest of us. When the guards were done with him…he used to laugh in their faces and tell them to come up with better tricks."

Malina let out a chocked laugh through her cries.

"The old fool!" she cried, "That sounds just like Nilak."

Katara nodded.

"But everyday, he'd shout our names and we'd shout back," she looked down sadly, "It might sound silly, but in that place, for a long while, its what kept me going. Its what kept a lot of us going. Just hearing someone call out our names until we called back. It felt like something to live for. Your dad made us feel like we were still human."

He didn't understand that, she could see it in his face, but it was the truth. She could feel Malina on her arm, clutching tighter and crying harder.

"What happened to my dad?" Mauja whispered.

Katara swallowed hard.

"I don't know," she admitted softly, "One day, he just didn't shout. We called and called his name, but he never called back…"

And no one had ever shouted again.

She stopped there and waited for the boy's reaction. She didn't know what to expect, or even if he would believe her, but she'd told him all she knew.

"Is that all true?" he said suddenly, looking her in the eye.

Unflinchingly, she met his gaze and nodded slowly.

He stepped back, bowing his head and was silent for several moments. Eventually though, he did look up at her.

"I'm sorry then," he said, clearly trying to sound more grown up than he was, "I just thought…if anyone was going to escape then Dad would definitely…he definitely…"

He broke off. To Katara's surprise, he threw his arms around her and hugged her close, crying out his apologies and pleading for his dad. She cast Malina a glance, but the woman was watching the exchange with a small smile on her weary face. She mouthed 'thank you' to Katara and moved off, heading back towards the village. Slightly perplexed, Katara's wrapped her arms around the shaking boy's frame and held him tightly. She saw her grandmother follow Malina back to the village, leaving her alone to comfort the grieving boy. Not sure what else to do, she could only hold him and hope he'd be okay.

 **~ATLA~**

 _Earth Kingdom, present day…_

The market place was filled to the brim with people, from scrawny street urchins begging on the sides to rich, plump Fire Nation merchants in their clothes of red and gold. Katara picked her way through the heaving stream, trying to avoid being jostled into too many people. There was a crowd gathering in one of the squares, a man stood high up on a dais, entertaining his audience with fanciful fire tricks. He was dressed in bright plumes of greens, blues and yellows and his face was painted with intricate red designs. He wore a feathered headdress and appeared to be reenacting a famous legend about the 'Sun Warriors.'

It interested Katara little. In the brief time she had spent in the Fire Nation with Hama she had seen her fair share of plays and dramas. They seemed popular to the culture. She paused only briefly when a woman came out on the stage, brandishing a large sword and wearing a mask of painted gold. A duel commenced between the two, flames danced and burned brightly over their heads, causing the crowd to mutter and gasp in delight.

Feeling anxious by the display, Katara hurriedly moved away from the street performers. She had seen enough fire tricks to last her a lifetime.

Further along, she took the time to restock her small store of herbs, taking great pleasure in picking out each addition. Her senses hummed at the familiar scents and textures. It had been a day since her arrival to the small harbor town and after discussing her circumstances with Ping, it was decided she should take the day to rest and prepare. She had a long journey ahead of her to the mysterious Sanctuary and needed supplies.

She picked up some fresh fruit. The moon peaches in particular looked good. They were full and ripe, almost bursting with juice. She got a few extra to give to Ping, picking up some apples and pears too, but shied away from the papaya. She had never quite acquired the taste for that fruit.

Placing the fruit in her bag, she noticed a small shortcut through an alley to the next section of the market and walked towards it.

The alley cut between two buildings, either side featuring walls littered with graffiti and old posters. As she stepped through, an old wanted poster caught her eye.

She stopped and stared at the old poster for several seconds. She remembered it used to be plastered all over the Fire Nation, the story was whispered even in the dark, isolated prison. The yellowing page depicted the face of a teenaged boy with short, scruffy dark hair. He might have been a handsome face, if it wasn't for the jagged, burn scar marring his left eye.

Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation.

More commonly known as the Mad Prince.

Everyone knew about him. She didn't think there was a corner of the world where his name hadn't been mentioned. He was once praised to the high heavens as a war hero, the man who had killed the Avatar.

The most hated human being in existence.

Of course, he was only 'praised' up till the point where he murdered his own mother and escaped justice.

It hardly surprised Katara that Sozin's grandson was capable of such an awful act.

Zuko was the eldest child of Prince Ozai, the Fire Lord's youngest son. He had been a Commander in the Fire Nation's navy before falling to disgrace and being sentenced to death for his crimes. Only he had somehow escaped prison and fled, becoming an outlaw.

His older cousin Lu Ten, the heir after General Iroh, and his younger sister Azula were both prominent figures in the Fire Nation military. In fact, it seemed the only one of Sozin's progeny not fighting directly in the war was Ozai. Though Katara had heard rumours he led the force to the Southern Air Temple, the day his son killed the Avatar.

She studied the poster, deciding that the young man had a rather sulky look about him and couldn't quite believe he was related to the stout gentlemen she had met the night before.

After the brief encounter and then listening to what Ping had to say of the man, Katara found herself grudgingly inclined to like him. Maybe there was hope for the world after all if he was going to be the next Fire Lord.

She moved on, slipping down the road and into another section of the market. It was far quieter than the rest, with buildings enclosing it in a small square. There were only three stalls and maybe half a dozen customers wandering through. Most of what was being sold seemed to be weapons, antiques and even some animals. She needed nothing here, so she moved off in a direction that would take her out of it.

As she walked on, she couldn't stop from looking around, her curiosity getting the better of her. Her eyes were scanning the stalls, when her eyes lit on something troublingly familiar.

 _No way!_

She moved to where an authentic waterbending scroll was being displayed. From the illustrations she could tell it was in the northern style. But still…how had that come to be here? She admired it for a few minutes, not noticing the rather unsavory individuals eyeing her as she did.

"Unfortunately," an older man said, adjusting his hat and feeding the bird on his shoulder a cracker, "I've already got a buyer for that one. Pretty though, isn't it?"

Katara nodded absently, her eyes scanning the table, about to walk off. It wasn't as though she needed it after all. That's when she realized what the other items were. Prayer beads, finely carved instruments, gold worked scrolls and paintings, she was staring at Air Nation relics. There were also cages hanging around them too, filled with rare birds of brightly coloured plumage. She looked up in disgust, meeting the gaze of the man. No, the pirate.

She knew the type, had encountered them before. If they weren't pirates, she was a lion-turtle.

"Can I interest you in anything else, miss?" the voice was slick and greasy, sending a disturbing chill down Katara's spine, "Perhaps something from the exotic south? Just had this little guy in last week."

He gestured to one of the grey cages on the table. Instead of an exotic bird, this one held a white, furry little creature with big ears and round, yellow eyes.

"What is it?" she asked despite herself.

"A lemur-monkey," the pirate said, "My crew caught him out near the Southern Air Temple."

She pondered the poor animal for a few moments – he was awfully cute – then shook her head and moved on. The creature looked sad and lonely, but there was no way she could take care of him, even if she had enough money left to afford a pet. She'd walked maybe a dozen steps when she heard yelling and looked back to see three of the pirates crashing through the market after her. It was at that moment that she realized there was an unfamiliar weight on her shoulder and that the pirates were shouting _thief!_

She looked to her side, saw a pair of bright yellow eyes and didn't even think about what she was doing. The last thing she needed was to get into any trouble, especially the kind that would attract soldiers. She opened her hip flask, sending out a spray of water at her pursuers feet. They slipped and yelled, falling as their feet encountered ice.

" _Waterbender!_ " it was the man with the bird on his shoulder yelling, "Get her! She's worth more than that lemur!"

And Katara ran, as hard and as fast as she could, ignoring the shouts behind her. She disappeared into a crowd, weaving her way through. Years on the run had taught her the tricks of this chase.

The man's final yell was actually encouraging. They wouldn't mention her presence to the authorities if they wanted to make any money off her and they'd silence anyone who saw her slip for the same purpose. She'd encountered their like before, knew what made them tick. They'd try to find her themselves.

She darted down an alley and behind a building and waited, listening for them. She peeked out and was pleased to see they had managed to disrupt the sellers in the market badly enough to attract the soldiers' attention. She waited until they were dragged away.

Katara took a moment to unplaster her back from the wall, her breathing was still heavy and hand firmly planted against her chest. She poked her head around the corner cautiously, checking again, but could see no one following her. The alley way was completely clear.

Sighing with relief, she leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes.

A soft, crooning sound began at her side and she could feel tiny paws clasping onto her left shoulder. She opened her eyes, turning to meet the wide-eyed gaze of the lemur-monkey she had just involuntarily rescued. His ears were perked up, looking at her curiously.

"You cause a lot of trouble," she told the tiny creature, feeling irritable.

His ears titled down for a few seconds. His little face turned towards her, blatantly unregretful of what he had just put her through. Instead, his big eyes darted to her shopping bag.

Before Katara could utter a protest, the tiny creature had crawled its way across her body, diving into the grocery bag. She dropped it with a yelp, watching in annoyance as he scrounged around within for a few moments, then popped back out with a peach in each hand and one in his mouth. Resisting the urge to laugh at the look of unbridled delight in the creatures gaze or the sticky, orange peach juice now running down it's fury chin, Katara placed her hands firmly on her hips and glared at the animal half heartedly.

 _How in the world had he gotten out of his cage? And why did he choose to cling to her of all people?_

"And what am I supposed to do with you?" she asked him, "I wasn't exactly looking for a pet."

He made that funny crooning sound, tilting his head to the side and placing one of the peaches down. He gnawed some more on the one in his mouth. Extracting it, juice dribbling down his chin, he gave it a loving look and then held it up to her. Katara bit back another laugh.

"No, no," she said, her tone a little sarcastic, "I wouldn't want to intrude on your meal."

He made another croon and promptly stuffed the peach back in his mouth. As he chomped, he continued to look at her. Katara shook her head, reaching down to take her grocery bag again.

"Well you're free now," she told the small animal, "I don't have much use for flying lemur-monkeys where I'm going. You can go where you like now."

She reached into her bag and extracted another peach, laying it on the ground beside the crooning lemur.

"That should tide you over," she said, "Goodbye."

With that, she shouldered her bag and walked out of the alley, sure she would never see the tiny animal again.

 _Spirits, was she wrong._

It took all of five minutes for Katara to realize her new 'little friend,' was stalking her; after so many years alone, she had come to recognize the signs of knowing when someone was watching. It was a prickling of the skin, a squirm in her stomach, a knowing feeling that she was in trouble.

She was _definitely_ in trouble.

It started at the next merchant's stall she stopped at. She was looking at a melon; wondering if was ripe, when she saw the flash of white fur. Pursing her lips, she placed the melon back down and peered about.

"Looking for something specific?" the old woman watching the stall asked gruffly.

Jolted from her thoughts, Katara just smiled and shook her head.

"I just realized I have to be getting back," Katara said shortly, briskly walking away as quickly as she could. Her eyes kept scanning around for the creature she knew must be following. Maybe if she left the market now she could-

"Stop! You stole a melon! _Thief!_ "

Katara closed her eyes against the yell.

"Please don't tell me," she muttered under her breath, whipping around to see the old woman pointing an accusing finger at her. Two, burly looking men were looking at her too, and the woman was speaking furiously with them, all the time pointing to Katara.

And on top of the melon stall was the lemur-monkey, the melon Katara had been looking at cradled securely in his paws.

"Trouble," she acknowledged, darting away before the two big men could take a step closer.

"Get back here!"

It was the pirates all over again, only this time, Katara didn't know if she could escape. She darted through the market, bumping into passersby and flying over market stalls. She knew she couldn't use her waterbending, any mention of her gifts would surely reach the pirates or worse, the Fire Nation. She leapt over a barrel with ease; glad for her natural agility and small build. She didn't look back, but she heard the loud curses as her pursuers managed to mangle their way into trouble.

This time, she didn't waste any time and head right back to Ping's teashop.

Unfortunately, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going and crashed into someone on the way. The fruit in her bag went flying, rolling over the cobbled road outside _The Jade Flower_.

"I'm sorry! So sorry!" she said quickly, bending to scoop up her wares, "I wasn't looking where I was going and –"

She cut off, realizing it was the young Fire Nation man she had seen playing Pai Sho the day before. He had soft grin on his face as he bent to help her.

"No harm done," he said, and in moments she had everything back in the bag.

"T-thank you," she stuttered out nervously, "Excuse me!"

She headed to the back room she had stayed in the night before. Ping came in, looking worried over her hasty arrival and Katara explained what had happened.

"I'll keep an ear out," he told her, "But perhaps its best you left tonight. Can you be ready by sundown?"

She nodded.

He left her alone to prepare herself and it was then that Katara noticed the lemur-monkey staring at her from the windowsill. He looked at her, entirely unapologetic and with no explanation towards his sudden appearance.

It seemed, against all odds, that she had made a new friend.

"Wonderful," she muttered, frowning.

 **~ATLA~**

 _The South Pole, five months ago…_

They came to her after that, people asking about their loved ones. Katara bit back her reservations and tried to tell them what she could. For most of the names, she could only answer that she knew they were in the cells from Nilak's role call, but had had very little contact with them. Some names though, she knew all too well. Onartok, one of the village elders and a hard man came asking about his granddaughter, Sesi.

Sesi had been several years older than Katara and hadn't even made it to the prison. She had died of her injuries on the ship. When she had explained this, however, Onartok became agitated.

"You're a healer!" he half yelled, "Why didn't you help her?"

"They chained us up and separated us," Katara explained calmly, "They only gave us enough water to keep us alive. I'm sorry, but I couldn't get to her, no matter how hard I tried."

She rubbed her wrists subconsciously. She and several others had rubbed their wrists raw on their manacles trying to help Sesi. The Fire Nation healer had eventually come, but he had come much too late. He gave her an herb to ease the pain and stayed until she passed – _it was the only half descent thing Katara had ever seen the Fire Nation do!_ – the next morning they took her body away.

That was the last time she had seen Sesi.

Mauja came to work in the healing huts without complaint. Katara kept him busy running errands for her and cleaning out some of the older stores. Though they started off a little rocky, she and Mauja soon became fast friends. The boy still sometimes asked things about his father, but they were mostly things Katara might remember from her own childhood. It was on a day like that, whilst she was regaling a story about Nilak tricking Sokka into hunting for an imaginary polar bear, that _it_ happened.

Mauja was enraptured in the tale, so much so that he didn't notice the jar he was about to knock over. It contained a liquid used for cleaning out wounds. The whole thing smashed to the floor before either could react, but what happened next startled Katara to her core. Mauja made a futile gesture towards the jar just as it crashed to the ground. The spilled contents rippled and jerked towards him as if summoned. Mauja's eyes widened and he dropped his arm. The liquid went still.

Katara knew she hadn't done it.

The boy looked like he was holding his breath for a second, then turned with an awfully forced apologetic smile plastered to his face. His eyes burned with fear.

"S-sorry Katara," he stuttered out, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "I should have watched –"

"Mauja?" Katara's eyes widened, "Can you…waterbend?"

The boy's cheeks turned scarlet and he shrugged, looking everywhere but at her.

"Yeah…sort of," he admitted softly, "I found out a little while after the attacks started. Dad said not to tell anyone, so I didn't."

"Your mom?"

"I think she suspects," he said tiredly, "But she won't confirm it. She's still plenty scared."

"So you've been hiding it for ten years?" she asked, surprised.

He gave yet another shrug.

"At first I thought that if I just didn't learn, it wouldn't be a problem, but…" he seemed to struggle for an explanation.

"It's the water," she offered, "You can't ignore it."

He shook his head miserably.

"I don't want the raiders back!" he said hurriedly, "But I can't seem to stop either. Please don't tell anyone! They'll just send me to the North Pole and-and Mom needs me here! I look after her!""

Katara smiled weakly, understanding.

"I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to," she assured him kindly, "But it's wonderful, Mauja. You have a gift."

He shook his head violently.

"What's so great about it?" he murmured unhappily, crossing his arms over his chest, "Waterbending hasn't brought anything good to this tribe."

"Maybe not lately," Katara admitted, trying not to cringe from his words, "But that's not because of waterbending. Its because of the Fire Nation. I don't think they needed much of an excuse to attack us. Waterbenders or no. It's part of our heritage, our culture. If we lose it, then the Fire Nation will have won."

She regarded him thoughtfully.

"You'll need to know some basics," she told him, "You don't want to do it accidentally at the wrong time. I – I can show you, if you'd like?"

The words left her mouth before she could stop them. _What was she thinking?! She wasn't a teacher! She couldn't possibly –_

"Okay," he answered and there was something strong in his voice, "I want to be like my Dad."

Katara gaped at him, but then she remembered Nilak.

"Okay," she repeated, feeling more sure of herself this time, "We'll start now."

It was later, as she was waving goodbye to him, that Katara realized something about Nilak's role call. Maybe he had been just as scared as everyone else, but maybe he was even more scared of what might happen if Mauja was taken and he never knew. Maybe the role call had been his way of reassuring himself that his son was safe. How much relief did he feel, every time new prisoners came in, to know for certain that his son wasn't among them?

She closed her eyes, pressing back tears.

"Thank you Nilak," she whispered, "Wherever you are, thank you for being such a good friend to us all."

 **~ATLA~**

 _Earth Kingdom, present day…_

By sunset, she was ready to go.

She replaced her blue, Water Tribe clothing for the more inconspicuous Earth Kingdom wear. She had purchased a deep green tunic with fine, yellow thread embroidery on the cuffs. It was long and slit at the sides to give easy movement. She kept her wide leather belt secured about her waist, but had also bought a pair of thick, tan leggings and some sturdy walking boots. She brushed her hair back into a high ponytail. She'd decided she would use her fur-trimmed anorak if the weather became too cold and rolled it up with her clothes and the letter Iroh had sent for her brother, stowing them away in her pack until needed. She wrapped up in her dark cloak, packed some extra food for the journey and ensured her water skin was filled.

Her fingers paused over her mother's necklace, but decided against removing the memento. It wasn't like she was moving through Fire Nation territory and as long as she passed for Earth Nation at first glance; she would get by.

Satisfied with her change of clothes, she studied the map Ping had given her a moment longer before stowing this too in her pack. She placed the Pai Sho tile into her moneybag and hid this under her clothes. When she was ready, she left the room to seek Ping out.

He was waiting for her outside, a grave smile on his aging face. He handed her a small package with additional food and some emergency medicine within.

"You have all you need?" he asked her.

Katara nodded.

"Yes," she said, bowing to him respectfully, "Thank you."

He smiled.

"I've arranged for a friend to get you safely beyond the patrols," he said, "She'll meet you at _The Moose-Lion's Roar_ on the western gate. You remember where that is?"

She nodded; Ping had shown her there just this morning before opening his teashop for the day. _The Moose-Lion's Roar_ was an inn almost at the end of town.

"Good, she'll find you, don't worry about that. Her name is Jun. Now. It will take you four days walking to reach the outskirts of the forest," he told her, "After that, you will have to wander around until they find you. A letter has been sent, but the communication between this side of the world and Sanctuary has never been quick. You may arrive before they know you are coming."

"I understand," she assured him, then asked, "And they will find me?"

"Yes," he told her knowingly, "They always seem to know whose wondering around in that forest. Good luck."

She thanked him again and set off. It was starting to get dark now, a crisp, autumn evening on its way. The lemur-monkey had alighted on her shoulder, his tail curling about her neck. She took a deep breath and started her journey.

 _I'll be seeing you soon, Sokka._

 **~ATLA~**

A/N: Because what's a story without Momo?

In my original outline, this and the last two chapters were all going to be chapter one. Needless to say, when it starts approaching the 30k mark, its time to split it up. Next chapter will be the last of the Water Tribe flashbacks and will begin Katara's journey to her brother. After that, I will stop overdosing you with Katara's POV. Let me know what you think so far!

Happy reading!


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